The Lucifer Effect
by Nawghty
Summary: Justification is the true evil. Nobody is a villain in their own story. An exiled engineer is forced to face her inner demons when she's recruited—read: conscripted—into the Tempest team. Suvi tries to convince Remy that she's a hero and not a criminal, but the difference between the two is the one telling the story.
1. Chapter 1

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: Some readers may remember Remy from _Pariahs Among Stars,_ an old (deleted) story I'm remixing with some changes to both the Pathfinder & OC. Remy's mostly intact but I've revamped some aspects and decided to restart from square one. I wanted to capture parts before Remy joins the Tempest crew, so it'll be a chapter or two before we hit it off with Remy & Suvi. If you think there's something I can improve on in my writing, I'm all ears and appreciate criticism. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Suvi shoots up into sitting, gasping and gulping for air as if she's been trapped underwater all this time. White noise buzzes, disorienting, fading when someone touches her shoulder. She looks up at a man in a tech's uniform, her sluggish brain furiously working to piece fuzzy memories together. Then it hits her.

She's _awake._ They made it to Andromeda!

...So why does this man look exhausted instead of excited?

"Take it nice and slow. You're going to need all the energy you can get." The technician says ominously, worry etched in every grave wrinkle in his face.

Not a promising sign.

Suvi glances around, a dreadful feeling building in her gut at the sight of how dark it is in the cryo bay. "What's happening in here? Shouldn't there be more technicians?" she asks, steeling herself to get a good look at the technician. He doesn't flinch under her gaze, but his shoulders slump dejectedly.

"There should." he mutters as he holds out his hand, helping her climb out of her stasis pod. "You will be screened by a med-tech before you receive your instructions."

"What kind of instructions?" Suvi mumbles silently under her breath, largely to herself. The buzzing in her stomach won't stop. This eerie quiet bay is unsettling, like something out of a horror vid. She reluctantly follows the technician down the corridor, guided by meager floor lights. She engages her omni-tool, running a discreet monitor of her own vital signs. Her heart rate variability chart looks more like the jagged cliffs of the grand canyon.

Normal, considering how she feels apprehensive rather than enthusiastic.

But if she's been awoken, then there _must_ be science around to distract her brain from any daunting challenges that may have arisen on the Nexus.

...Right?

-—-—-—-—-—-

Davis Qar. Journalist. Non-essential.

Cain Fawkes. Civil Engineer. Essential—circumstantial.

Dale Atkins. Security. Non-essential.

With a heavy heart, Suvi finishes typing her contingency report for an investigation she wishes she never offered to help on; the first part of a 'plan' for when rations run out. Some plan, if it can even be called that. Rations should've never happened in the first place. Riots should've never happened in the first place. Exiles should've never happened in the first place—both the action and the people.

Looking around the dark lab, Suvi takes a deep breath. She quietly rises from her chair and slowly assembles equipment she might never use, for plans of science that'll never happen. But even so... It's the only way to cope in this calm chaos—however much sense that doesn't make. It's deathly silent in here, something that was once unsettling, but has now become a solace. It's better than people screaming at each other over the smallest mistakes. Stress has wracked up the sanity count.

Suvi idly chews her lip as she tries to steer her thoughts to somewhere more hopeful—and, in turn, hopefully to ingenuity instead of depression. Innovation has never been born from ideal circumstances or there'd be no need to invent anything.

Still...

Suvi walks back to her terminal, bringing up the file of the exile she'd replaced: a mechanical engineer by the name of Remedy Kedar, who participated in the revolt.

Participated is too strong of a word, in Suvi's opinion. From the snippets she's heard, and alluding to the situation now, Suvi can't blame anybody for doing what they did. Nobody knows who these leaders are. Nobody knows what's going to happen now, now that both of Eos' outposts have failed. And still, people were ordered to go back into stasis; who would willingly jump back into a pod when the chances of survival are grim?

Fear jolts through Suvi at that thought. Here she is unnecessarily setting up equipment, making plans for when supplies run out—and all this after their attempts to set up an outpost has failed despite the efforts of the Initiative's best and brightest.

Heleus is _unlivable._

What's worse: she won't even get the chance to confirm or deny that. She won't get to do what she came here to do.

Maybe being exiled isn't as bad as how leadership is making them out to be?

Suvi clicks her tongue off the roof of her mouth at that thought, chiding herself sternly as she renews her efforts back to the instructions she's received. She sits at her terminal and opens up another batch of Initiative members, reading their files—their history, their families, their _dreams_ —and summarizing them based on their occupation and whether or not that occupation fits the parameters of who's essential or not.

And stress tallies another count as she reads the last file aloud.

"Suvi Anwar. Astrophysicist."

Her throat tightens. Her chest aches. Her family is at the forefront of her mind. Ultimately, it all means nothing in the end. She forces herself to type her own verdict.

"Non-essential."

When she said goodbye to her parents, she never imagined she'd be saying goodbye like _this._

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Where is everyone?" Sara mutters, exchanging terse looks with Cora. It isn't hard to tell that not being Pathfinder is eating away at Cora on some level.

It isn't hard to tell because she makes that much _known._

Rivalry is the last thing on Sara's mind right now. She'll consider them the best of friends so long as she's not backstabbed in this corridor in the next ten minutes. The pressure keeps building with every step that echoes in this hollow bay, the tension tantamount. White noise rings when Sara scans a container full of ordnance.

"No signs of battle, but..." She glances around, frowning. "Are they preparing for one; against those aliens, maybe?"

"Do you think that's why there was only an automated response for docking, instead of a live channel?" Liam asks, using both omni-tools for light. "Could be a brownout."

"We should go back to the ark and gear up," Cora mutters. Her calculating gaze never wavers whenever it snaps to Sara.

Normally, Sara's all for calculations, but not when it comes to people betting on _her._

"Hey wait, I think I see a guy." Liam rises on his toes to look over a crate, waving Sara over as he whispers eagerly. "Maybe he's got champagne."

Sara rolls her eyes, chuckling. "I forgot to bring appetizers."

-—-—-—-—-—-

Music pounds deafeningly loud, drowning out any conversation—mostly threats and trash talk—in the club. Desperate, as always, Remy heads to one of the riskiest tables; also the most rewarding, if she plays her cards right. She _needs_ to. This is her last resort, and failure is not an option.

Eyes snap to her as she steals a chair from another table and sits down, turning on her omni-tool to connect to the table's betting pile, placing her own. "A crate of resin caps. Twenty pieces." She smirks arrogantly—posturing as such to protect herself—when one of the others whistle, unperturbed by his mocking grin when he leans threateningly. He's nowhere near the worst she's had to deal with.

"Remy. You've been busy." His feral eyes narrow, nose flaring. "Like stealing from me kind of busy. You sure those parts aren't mine?"

"Dunno what you're talking about, Dale. I haven't been to Kurinth's Valley for a few weeks now." she lies dismissively.

The dealer hands her a set of cards and she takes a peek; it's already a bust, but nothing she can't turn around with a bit of grease. She'll have to mind her cheating so that she doesn't draw too much attention though; just bet what she doesn't need, and win what she does. It'll be far from a cakewalk with the veteran cutthroats also looking to make a quick buck tonight, but pressure is when she does her best work.

Even if she hates it.

"T-t-t-today junior," one of the players taunts her, but she says nothing and ignores the occasional jeering from the others. If only the music were louder.

"Raise." Remy bets her salvage on her omni-tool. "Ten pieces of impact restrictors and one uncharged bioreader."

"You fuckin' thief, you _have_ been stealing from me!" Dale growls as he rises from his chair, slamming his hands on the table, trying to intimidate her.

Same shit, different day.

"It's common salvage, genius." Remy brushes him off with a wave, staying focused on the game.

"From _my_ salvage site! Those pieces 'disappeared' last week and now, even worse than sellin' them back to me, y'want me to play for 'em? You think this is a game?"

"We are playing poker, yeah?" Remy exchanges her cards and looks up at him, unflinching. She has to be. If this keeps up then her mouth is liable to eat bullets instead of food, but showing weakness in a den of predators will secure her death sentence. "And before you mount your high horse or go off on a sob story about your sister, I'll let you in on a little something: _everybody_ here knows you've been ripping them off since day one. You've painted a target on your own back, and if you keep it up then you're gonna be the next body dumped in the water."

"You—" he snarls menacingly, but is caught off guard when one of the other criminals _encourages_ him to sit back down into the chair with a deceivingly friendly pat.

"Can't we all just get along? Play the game, have a good time. She isn't the one who took your parts anyways."

Remy blinks, but nips her tongue in time before she damns herself by blurting: _"I'm not?"_

She's as honest as the guy sitting next to her—which is not at all—and she's pretty damn sure that she did steal from Dale. She wishes she could forget how she had to become a glorified stalker just to figure out where he hoarded his junk; but she'll never forget how she stripped his hoverbike as a bonus.

It's only fair after he dismantled her shuttle.

"And what makes you so sure of that?" Dale postures all tough, crossing his arms; he must've been a security guard on the Nexus. He won't last long here. "You the thief?"

"Yes, actually. You act like you've never done it yourself. Everything is fair game on Kadara; let this be a lesson that you should always keep an eye on—or hide—your goods." The criminal shrugs nonchalantly. Remy barks out a laugh when he gives her a playful wink, rubbing salt in Dale's wounds. "Now you have to earn them back."

"Kadara's new slogan: not all pirates were born without a brain between the ears. Dale's a special exception." One of the other criminals quips ruthlessly, and finally the trash talk shifts off of Remy. She'd feel for Dale if he wasn't such a god damn asshole even when he's clueless.

Forget him.

 **Focus.**

Now she has the peace of mind to pay attention to what's offered on the betting table and calculate what everybody's salvage is currently worth in the markets; just because she's hit jackpot with Dale's site doesn't mean she can afford to hand it off like it's a charity case. As soon as one of the other players—a quiet angaran—gambles a crate of nutrient paste, she goes all in and discreetly enables the cybernetic implants in her eyes, keeping a tight check on all the players' vitals to see who's bluffing. Her move to go in for the kill doesn't go unnoticed, but thankfully left unsaid.

A knee nudges her from under the table. She brushes it off, waiting for a few seconds before she glances over at the criminal who stood up for her. He smirks when he bets the exact same salvage as her, throwing Dale into another frenzy as he slews cusses left and right.

But what does this man want from her?

There's no way he's doing this out of the kindness of his heart. Everybody on Kadara is out for themselves. Everybody lies and cheats and steals. Nobody is a friend; anyone who proclaims it is just another manipulative liar, looking out for number one.

Just as another batch of nutrient paste is put in, the man beside her teases Dale ruthlessly and draws all attention to him, giving her a window to switch her cards with the one hiding in the sleeve of her sweater. If he does expect something from her for this, too bad. There's been no verbal agreement and she doesn't _have_ to owe him a thing.

Remy bows out after she wins what she needs, ready to leave the table. The 'good samaritan' smoothly scoops her hand, giving a charming kiss to her knuckles, catching her off guard. "That paste is for angarans only," he notes.

Hopefully he won't be noting more things about her. She can't afford to be on anyone's radar anymore.

"Humans can eat it too, it just tastes like shit." For once, it's not a lie; but she's still guarding her intentions. She pulls her hand away and forwards the angaran player a nav point of where she expects her shipment, receiving pings from the others of where they want their hard-won salvage. She'll comb through the data later to ensure it's not a vantage point for another ambush. She's sick of those.

Sick of doing it herself too. She didn't come to Andromeda—to run away from crime... Only to get suckered into becoming a criminal anyways.

Remy takes her leave before the mysterious man tries to chat her up for another second; there's something off with him. He's not like everybody else on Kadara, but...

Is?

This doesn't make sense.

Remy sighs as she makes her way out of Tartarus, stuffing her hands in the front pocket of her sweater. Something scrapes her fingertip. Curious, she takes it out, surprised to see a folded piece of paper. She unfolds it, already knowing who's it from. Sort of. Good to know that other man has slick—instead of sticky—fingers; at least with her.

For now.

"Reyes Vidal, huh?" she mutters as she reads the name scrawled across, along with a frequency for who-knows-what. Her lips purse thin, frowning. "Does he think I'm like Dale? This screams 'trap' all over. He's not getting me that easily."

God knows she's already made that mistake one too many times. A desperate stranger trusting other desperate strangers is just a recipe to get FUBAR.

Remy crushes the paper in her hand and tosses it in a nearby sliver of fire-water. Nobody has a better name for it, but everybody knows it's best utilized for burning evidence. The Initiative screening process severely underestimated ingenuity on the ground when left unchecked. The Nexus revolt was proof of that. She pulls the brim of her cap down to shield her eyes as she passes through the warden's station, avoiding eye contact as she enters the badlands and heads for the turret protecting her hovercraft.

Powering the turret down and dismantling it into pieces, she ties a cord around it and carries it under her arm. She splays her fingers on to the hovercraft's DNA-signature panel to activate it, then rolls her pants up her mechanical legs to engage it's jump-jets without burning her clothes off.

Another mistake she's made one too many times before; why do her lessons always have to be learned the hard way?

Remy balances on the hovercraft, shipping out and aiming her pistol the second a whistle cuts the air. She glares when the familiar man claps his hands. "Reyes, is it? Don't try anything funny if you don't want another hole in your ass." she warns, loosening her grip on her turret, ready to re-deploy it on the hovercraft if need be.

"Now, now, there's no need for that. I prefer talking over shooting." Reyes smiles charmingly. Does he think she's _that_ stupid to fall for it?

Well... It's happened countless times with other people, but that's besides the point.

"What do you want from me?" Remy trains her gun on his head, but she's a poor aim. She needs her turret's VI to sync with her implants and guide her hand.

"Your name." Reyes advances fearlessly, holding out his hands in surrender. Nobody surrenders on Kadara; all it's doing is stalling death. He has to have a backup plan.

"You heard it at the table. You already know who I am," she snarls, "so what do you _actually_ want from me?"

"Your actual name." His smug smirk irritates her to no end; he certainly knows how to read people and get under their skin.

"I don't see how knowing that helps you." She kneels carefully to set her turret down on the hovercraft, engaging it's propellers in the event if she needs to evade a bullet herself and buy time to set the turret up. Her aim never strays... But it shakes. She's never taken a life with her own hands.

That's what machines are for.

"It helps me get to know you," Reyes counters smoothly, shrugging. "Which helps my business. I'm always looking for people."

"Looking, huh? To steal or kill?" Remy watches him warily, but she reads mechs for a living. Not people. She can't see any weapons on him though; is that cockiness, or naiveté, or does this 'business' of his keep him safe? Will it keep her safe? Only one way to find out; she lowers her gun. "What kind of business, and what do you pay in?"

"Steal or kill, so dramatic." He's determined to be annoying. Fantastic. "I'm looking to recruit, of course." Reyes smiles slyly. "And I'll pay in whatever you need."

"That doesn't answer my question," she snaps, heat surging to her chest, pounding in her throat. Her fingers itch on her gun. "Recruiting for what? I'm not interested in politics, so if you're in line with Sloane and the Outca—"

"I can get you vats of that nutrient paste for those angarans. Which you technically are anyways, since that angaran at the table works for me."

Remy freezes. Her pistol is back up, intimidating, or desperately posturing as such. Whoever this man is, he's dangerous. She bites her tongue before she asks how he knows; a question that'd confirm him and damn her. "I don't know what you're talking about," she hisses, ready to pull the trigger when he laughs.

"I won't hurt them. I'm on their side—which means your side, too."

"There are no 'sides' on Kadara. Everybody is in it for themselves." Remy blindly tries to set her turret up with one hand, refusing to take her eyes off Reyes when he takes a step forward. "I swear I'll shoot! Stay back!"

But he doesn't. She fumbles, flustered, temper igniting and exploding when she _knows_ this is weakness. She looks over at her turret—still in pieces—panicking when he's right up at her hovercraft. He grabs her wrist before she hits him with the butt of her gun... But he doesn't attack her. She helplessly watches him, infuriated when he playfully waves his fingers with his free hand.

"Let me go, asshole!"

"Patience," he chuckles, "I promise I will soon." Reyes grabs the barrel of her gun, finger sliding to the back of it.

Remy's stomach drops at the sound of a subtle click.

"There we are." He steps back, his hands up in surrender again. "Now your safety's off. You can shoot me, if you like."

"Wha..." Never before has someone unnerved her to this degree; she doesn't know what to think or how to react, for once. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you have a death wish?" Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, aiming her gun between his eyes. If she misses this shot at point-blank range, she's officially _fucked_ on this planet.

It might honestly happen with how much her hand is trembling.

But instead of answering her question, Reyes walks backwards. "Sleep on it and think about my offer. If you change your mind, find me at Tartarus." He gives a playful wink. "Tell your friends about me too." He turns around and waves over his shoulder. He's fully exposing himself to be backstabbed by a stranger, but he's proved himself to be observant and cunning.

None of this makes sense. Something's amiss here.

Remy stares, dumbfounded. Buzzing crawls under her skin and she heeds her gut feeling, passing her hand over another panel to engage the hovercraft's thermal radar.

Three dots are detected.

"Hello~ backup plan." she drawls under her breath. Remy swallows her anger down and takes her hint, holstering her pistol and re-packing her turret.

She sarcastically salutes in the sniper's direction when she leaves.

-—-—-—-—-—-

This might be the fastest she's ever changed her mind. So, technically, he's getting her that easily. It still remains to be seen if this is a trap though.

Remy leans against the wall, watching the satisfied bastard drink with a permanent smile on his face. She looks away and scoffs. "Wipe that smile off. You're not recruiting me."

"Oh? So why are you here?"

"Got no choice, 'pparently. You're conscripting me. Why else would you have a sniper if you didn't intend to intimidate me into joining?"

"He was _intended_ to be there to save me from the gun locked in safety." Reyes teases, chuckling. "So that I can sit here drinking Kian's poison instead of Kadara's poison."

"Bullshit." she grumbles, ignoring his jab and her warm cheeks over her embarrassing mistake. She got lucky; if he were anyone other than a shady bastard, she'd be dead right now. Everyone prioritizes loot over life. So why is she _actually_ alive? She steals a peek at him. He's still stupidly smug. "What did I say about wiping that smile off?"

"Are you this bossy to all your bosses?"

"You are **not** my boss," Remy states firmly, pushing off from the wall. He better not get any funny ideas about them. _Ever._ "We're business partners."

"So I've successfully 'conscripted' a partner who doesn't know what sort of business we're conducting? I've outdone myself, it seems." Ugh, cheeky bastard. "I'll drink to that."

"You get information through supplies." Remy crosses her arms, gesturing to the door with a jerk of her chin. "And you said that angaran works for you; it's got to be smuggling. Or information broker. You looking to be Andromeda's shadow broker or something?"

Reyes looks at her, amused; hopefully she didn't just give him a funny idea. He grabs an extra mug and pours in it. "I trust the vats have made it safely?"

Evasive, roundabout answers. She hates working with people like this... But she has no choice if she wants to survive. At least it's better than underhanded tactics and murdering for supplies. "They have." More than she won, too. "You work quick." He must have a large crew. She'd be stupid not to take this opportunity to have a hand in that, but she'll still have to be careful.

She'd be doubly stupid to believe she stumbled on his radar by accident.

"They were there the moment you placed the bet on them." He shrugs, lifting his mug to toast. "I knew you'd win. Desperate enough to cheat for it, clever enough to know when. And I knew I'd won then, too. I need more people like you on my crew: working for what you need instead of greed. I promise you won't be desperate enough to cheat with the jobs I take on, though."

Intrigued, Remy humors him and walks over to grab her drink, bumping her mug against his. "My omni-tool never said that you placed a bet on me."

Reyes smiles devilishly. "I never show the cards in my sleeve."

-—-—-—-—-—-

Suvi's heart flutters with hope as she analyzes energy readings, drowning in an influx of data from the vault the Pathfinder somehow turned online. Suvi struggles not to jump out her station to hug Sara when she comes back to the bridge, grinning proudly and rightly so.

The ration investigation made it clear they were running out of time itself. Now the _entire_ Initiative has a chance to get that time—and hope—back.

"Let's head back to the Nexus," Sara says, "I want to be the first one to shove it in Tann's face. We'll see who's the pretender now."

Suvi exchanges confused looks with Kallo, but neither have a chance to inquire when Sara leaves the bridge—practically bouncing on her way out. Suvi smiles at the sight; no doubt there's going to be one hell of a party back at the Nexus. Hopefully they'll have a chance to unwind before setting back out again.

"Retrieving coordinates and calculating navigation path," Suvi states before her mind flies away to la-la land. Work first, fun last. "Forwarding them now."

"Drive core online," Gil reports on the comms. "Everything looks good here."

"Systems green across the board, ascent is go." Kallo engages the haptic interface and inputs the coordinates. "Time to go home."

Home. That's what the Nexus is now, isn't it? Well, not yet, but it will be.

And she gets to be part of that.

Suvi smiles when they take off. That jolt when the ship lifts and the landing gear retracts, the vibrations of the shields bending the hull as they leave the atmosphere...

Nothing beats this exhilarating feeling, like she can take on this whole galaxy now.

This is what she came here to do, even if flight navigation isn't exactly in her job description. As horrible as it sounds, she's happy there weren't many scientists thawed out on the Nexus; leadership would've chosen someone more suitable for the job rather than just making do with what's on hand. Now she'll get more opportunities to get hands-on experience with _all_ life they come across.

Picking up her personal datapad, she brings up the file of the exile she replaced. "I hope you're out there, somewhere." she whispers, propping the datapad on her dashboard.

And types a report on Eos to update the science team back _home._

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Why don't we skip all the bullshit and you just tell me now what brand of asshole you are?" Remy asks sweetly, shooting the other smuggler a cheeky smirk. She's forced to stand her ground and swallow a spike of fear down when a gun is pointed at her face. She crosses her arms and tilts her head to get a view of the asari instead of the pistol's barrel. "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes." The asari steps closer and jams her gun against Remy's forehead. "Don't get cocky just because Reyes thinks you're a pretty face."

"He didn't tell me that. Does that mean you're the one who thinks I have a pretty face?" She cringes when the barrel digs painfully into her skin; she snaps, grabbing the barrel and pushing it away from her face as she glares venomously. It's met on equal ground but she refuses to back down. "Cut this out before your life's cut short."

"Careful with those baby teeth, whelp. This crew has shot people for a whole lot less than threats; but since I'm the _nicest_ one out of all of us, I'm going to give you a warning. This gun will kill you. Not only will it kill you, you will suffer the whole time you're dying."

"Duly noted. Thanks for showing what brand of asshole you are." she drawls sarcastically, spitting at the ground when the asari stomps off as they wait for Reyes' flare.

Remy itches do something, but she can't. She doesn't like being forced to sit and wait. It gives her mind far too much time to wander, and it usually tends to wander to what Kadara reminds her of. Nexus. Even with all these assholes around—and she's no exception—it's a terrible reminder that every single person's dreams are going to die here.

No, not here. Tann and the krogan already crushed that; crushed more than that for some, like her. Remy's gaze drops to her prosthetics. She needs a new design that—

"Hey, pay attention, whelp!" the asari shouts. "I ain't losin' my share just 'cause I gotta babysit you; eyes on the sky!"

"Yes ma'am." Remy sighs, saluting mockingly as she looks up.

Minutes later, the flare illuminates where they're to strike. She and her _trusty_ partner rush to the shuttle, and she wastes no time with the flight controls. The asari bitches at her the entire time they're flying, and Remy struggles not to just take the asari's gun to shoot _herself._

...But she understands. This is what all their dreams have been reduced to: a never-ending nightmare for survival.

All Remy can do is pray for the day she'll get her revenge on the Nexus.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: Thanks for taking the time to review ShadowBroker11, glad to be back! I miss writing Remy so I'm determined to see this through. This one's chock full of Remy to lay the foundation with her unknowing start in the Collectives, and the Tempest should touch down on Kadara next chapter (priority ops and when planets can be visited are reordered). Also as a heads up, there are casual romances for Sara—primarily with Peebee and Reyes—since she has her share of angst in her arc too. Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

"Aren't you an engineer? Fix it!"

"You know there's like a hundred different types of engineers, right? I'm not a software programmer." Remy sighs, engaging her omni-tool without having a single fucking clue of what she's supposed to try now to get their shuttle flying again. This is going to be a classic case of copying code, pasting it, and praying it'll work.

"Fine, I'll help." The asari growls, squeezing herself into the shuttle's cockpit. Yeah right, as if she can figure out— "Here's the problem."

...Okay. Sarcasm's learned how to be humble today.

But the asari doesn't actually _point_ out what the problem is, glaring at Remy instead. She shrugs, smirking as she mocks the asari's earlier tone. "Aren't you a genius? Fix it!"

"Can't fix this one, not without using brute force." The asari scoffs, pushing off from the dashboard as she marches to the doors.

Yeah. Remy's confused.

"Because the problem exists between the chair and the omni-tool."

Remy looks up thoughtfully, piecing the puzzle together. Then she's left staring into the space of where her oh-so- _lovely_ partner used to be, her middle finger fired a second too slow.

"Reyes and I are gonna have a long chat about pairing me with her." Remy mutters, disappointed for not getting the last jab. "She's definitely on my punch list now."

Though, the asari is likely saying the same about her.

Remy grumbles cusses as she runs diagnostics on the shuttle again, knowing fully well that it's not a mechanical problem. At least they were already in the process of landing before the thrusters went out. Yay for not crashing and burning and dying painfully.

But what good is stealing cargo when they can't _get the fuck away_ with it?

If they don't get out of here soon, the raiders who've been tricked to leave their posts are going to come back and catch Remy with her pants down. At this point, it's fair to say she really couldn't give an inch of a fuck for her partner; maybe the asari's turned tail and has already left her behind. It really wouldn't shock her.

"C'mon... Talk to me, gimme a chance. We can work this out, okay?" Remy affectionately pats the dashboard. Maybe if she seduces this shuttle, some magic will happen.

If she doesn't get out of here, she's dead. She just needs to choose if she wants raiders to kill her, or Reyes. That guy can play it nice however he wants, but it's the colorful snakes that are often the most deadly. Though if she had it her way, this shuttle exploding beforehand would be—

...Would be a miracle, actually.

Remy jumps out of her seat and rushes outside the shuttle, heading to the thrusters in the back. If she can manually ignite them then maybe it'll override whatever the hell the system is locking it down for. Nothing in the diagnostics showed any mechanical error, so it's probably fine. If not, well. She's fucked if she does and fucked if she doesn't.

"Here goes nothing..." She engages the haptic interface and plays with various energy frequencies until she successfully materializes a jet of fire, looking across the barren plains when she hears a distant yell, grimacing at the sight of her 'partner' making it for the hills. Remy jumps when a gunshot thunders in the air. One blink and the asari is down, screaming in agony. Adrenaline rushes through Remy and she takes cover behind the shuttle, her hand trembling immensely as she alters the temperature output to be _much_ hotter.

This has to work on the first try. She'll figure out what the hell to do if the shuttle's engines blow out in the air later.

Remy steals a quick glance around the corner, her heart hammering at her throat at the sight of three raiders, kicking the asari. She's still screaming.

She's still _alive._

Something Remy won't be if she tries to help someone who's going to be dead anyways.

Praying, she stays behind the shuttle as she hugs the corner, sliding her arm inside the thruster. She holds her breath, firing her omni-tool. She's knocked back by the explosion, crying out when liquid fire courses through her arm, protectively cradling her hand as she's sent rolling away. She doesn't know when, but she's up on her feet.

Everything is spinning. Half her vision is gone, the other half blurry. Instinct drags her to the shuttle. Blinking lights at the cockpit guide her to her chair, hands— _hand_ —working autonomously. The world won't stop _fucking spinning,_ and when the shuttle jolts into hovering, she grows nauseated.

" _Fly,_ " she chants under her breath, trying to distract herself from the dizziness, the wretched smell of retch that forces it's way out her throat, splashing on the dashboard, dribbling down her chin. " _Fly._ " She has no idea what she's doing, where she's going, how she's managing. Agony rips through her skull whenever she tries to concentrate on the controls.

In a haze, she looks around. She's... Moving? Bleeding? It's hard to see. She lifts her singed hand to her face, numb to the mass of bloody blisters running all the way from her fingers to her forearm.

" _Not burned off,_ " she rasps, clutching to whatever silver lining she can. Her brain feels like it's trying to drill it's way out her fucking head though.

It's starting to sink in that what she did probably wasn't a good idea. So much for doing her best work under pressure.

Muffled sirens alert her, and she looks at the dashboard, grimacing and squinting to protect herself from all the lights blinking everywhere. " _Like trying to stare at the fucking sun._ " And in a desperate attempt to try to shut them off, her hand slides across the interface, not knowing what it's controls are even set on.

And she's thrown out her seat when the shuttle rolls.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Are all politicians manipulative assholes or are they just strategically placed so that I come across one every time?" Sara grumbles, sighing as she saddles up on a stool beside Liam. She taps the counter to signal Dutch for a drink.

"You." Dutch narrows his eyes. "Why do you keep coming back?"

"People always happen at a _bar,_ Dutch. You're in the wrong place for peace and quiet _—_ not like there's any place like that on the Nexus, anyways..." Sara rests her head on her forearms. "I'm too tired to think of something snarky; just hit me with the strongest drink you can make _without_ killing me, please."

"You just said something snarky." Liam supplies helpfully, chuckling when she lifts her head and gives him flat look. "Tann was that bad, huh?"

"Bad is the smallest word for what he is," Sara scoffs, nodding in gratitude when Dutch gives her a full cup of who-knows-what. She knocks it back without thought, ordering another and drowning the Vortex's noise as best as she can.

Whatever Liam says goes in one ear and out the other, her attention wandering as she studies the bar's patrons for the night—all drunk and having a good time. Something she'd be having too, if Tann didn't waste her time with another meaningless task that someone else is far more capable of handling.

"I should be on my way to the next vault, not on a merry-go-round with politics. I'm starting to feel more like a janitor instead of a Pathfinder." Sara stops, frowning when her mind catches up with her words. Her lips press thin and she shoots Liam a deadpan glare when he sniggers. "Not one word out of you." She raises her mug, clicking against his. "And get ready to HUSTL my ass to Lexi."

Liam grins. "You got it, boss."

"It should knock you out—" Dutch starts, making Sara's heart soar. "—so you can leave me alone."

...Only to crash and burn.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Yay for not dying painfully.

But just because everything's been set on fire, does it _have_ to fucking feel that way too?

Remy claws her way out the cockpit, armed with nothing but willpower and instinct alone. White noise rings in her ears and mutes the alarms; she doesn't know if it's red in here because of the lights, or because of blood crusting her eyes shut. She heaves and pukes and stumbles about, the dizziness intensified. She slams against the wall and cries out when pure agony swallows her for a second, waiting and gasping for it to go away.

It doesn't.

"Anything that can go wrong..." she hisses, gulping for the air that's knocked out of her every time she loses her balance. Every single step is an excruciating war itself; her prosthetics aren't moving whenever she wants them to, and moving whenever she doesn't want them to. She's scared of looking down to assess the damage done—to see if the delay is because of her legs or because of her _brain._ She honestly expects her life-support mask to just randomly fizzle out and choke her in a chock full of smoke.

"Because what the fuck _isn't_ going wrong, right now?"

Debris from the smashed cargo crates blocks her from the doors. Diagnostics show the flames in the thrusters are chewing through the shields _._ It'll only be a matter of minutes before it razes through the interior; minutes she doesn't have.

And, like before, she comes up with a genius idea in theory—that highly likely isn't a genius idea in practice.

Remy engages her omni-tool and alters the output power's frequency for a precise laser; she wants to burn her way out of here, not blow herself up. _Again._ She swallows the cries bubbling in her chest whenever her singed arm jolts even at the weakest kicks of the laser. She pushes herself to pull the pieces she cuts away, clearing a path to squeeze through the debris.

"The fuck am I smuggling anyways?" she growls, trying to concentrate on the contents as she sifts through them.

She wants to know if she's actually worth what Reyes is going to kill her for.

Sharp pain strikes through her brain whenever she tries to focus, every slight movement of her head aggravates it even more. A hail of cusses tumbles out her lips—because maybe some magic will happen if she tries swearing at the shuttle instead—and she inches her way to the door. Her legs are her biggest problem.

Something shrieks like a banshee and she slaps her hands over her ears, crying out when the pressure swallows her singed hand in agony. A force knocks her back and she nearly topples over the debris, grabbing to whatever she can to stop her fall. The shrieking stops. She looks up, and her heart plummets.

Nevermind. The fire inside is her biggest fucking problem.

"And I worried if Reyes is going to kill me? He better start praying I'm not going to kill _him._ "

Remy hastily rolls a pant leg up to grab her prosthetic by the kneecap, lifting and forcing it to step. Every fucking muscle spindle and fiber in her body begs to stop, but she can't. She stops, she's dead; she'll stop when she's dead.

"Almost... There..."

Honestly, it's pathetic how long this is taking. The exit is no more than two meters away from the cockpit.

The fire is no more than three.

Sparks are the only thing illuminating her path within the smoke, and every breath in the mask brings a slight charred taste now. She tumbles and slams into the door, screaming when she tries to catch herself from falling with her injured hand. She flails about, blindly smacking around until she hits the button to open the doors.

And hits it, and hits it, and hits it over and over again.

 **Nothing.**

"They're not opening," she mutters in horror, smacking the button. "They're not ope—why aren't they opening?!"

Heat licks her nape, and she finally snaps under the pressure. Tears pave a path down only one cheek. She doesn't need to feel anything more than that to know there's something wrong with her eye; does she even have an eye anymore?

"Open, _please!_ I'll do anything!" Remy slams her fists against the door, her heart pounding in her throat, choking her from the inside out—maybe by some miracle, she'll die before the smoke or fire gets to her. She flinches when more sparks fly out, and she panics when a pant leg catches on fire. She starts to strip it off, propping her shoulder against the door for balance.

Why? The fire is _right there,_ roaring in her face.

Fear locks her muscles down, her mouth agape in a silent scream.

And then the door opens.

Remy falls backwards and is caught by someone, then dragged away. "P-pants, take them off!" she gasps, trying to kick at the dirt to put the fire out. It's then she gets a good hard look at just how damaged her legs are, with many parts indistinguishable or fused together. At least her pants are pulled off by her mystery hero, but the world's too blotted to see who her savior is—if they even are a savior and not a looter.

But she soon learns that her harrowing escape _still_ isn't the worst of everything that's gone fucking wrong today.

"You're in luck." A familiar voice wheezes in vivid pain, instantly grating Remy's nerves. The first thing that comes to mind is her punch list. "I'm good at taking pants off."

Great. Neither a savior or a looter, but the devil herself.

Remy closes her eye and sighs. "Go to hell."

She smiles when her _trusty_ partner laughs. "We're already there, whelp."

-—-—-—-—-—-

Remy lies on a plinth beside the asari, tormented by the excruciating wait for Dr. Nakamoto's diagnosis on her eye, and her legs, and her brain, and basically _everything._

"You're lucky you only got a shot to the leg," Remy grumbles, flipping her middle finger when her partner laughs. "Both of mine are outta commission, thanks to you."

"How's it my fault? You're the one that took off flying without me. May—"

"Don't forget the part where you took off without me _first._ "

"Maybe if you had somebody with _brain cells_ on board—" the asari stops when Remy willingly puts herself through agony to turn her head and glare, irritated that she's been so readily ignored. Even if she can't see so well, she can still _sense_ this asshole's smirk. Maybe she's biotically exuding it somehow. "Actually, then we both would've been fucked. Can you explain to me what part of blowing up the shuttle sounded like a good idea?"

"I got it flying, didn't I?"

"Yeah, for all of two seconds. Gave me enough time to save _myself_ when those dumbasses turned around. Thanks for rescuing me, by the way~"

Remy scoffs, carefully pushing down the fingers of her injured hand just so that she can flip the bird from that one too. She closes her eye and listens to the groaning of other patients, growing impatient. She gets Ryota's busy, she does, but can he just speed up the fucking process a _little?_ She needs to know how screwed she is so that she can start working on fixing it.

...But she wouldn't have this luxury if the asari didn't come back for her.

That was definitely unexpected. Remy still doesn't trust the woman not to just bail again, but all things considered, she didn't have to come back; she certainly didn't have to bail Remy out either.

Curious, Remy looks at the asari. "So why did you rescue me?"

"You're welcome, by the way~"

The sarcastic drawl earns an eye roll, and then a sharp grimace when pain reprimands Remy for her stupidity.

Silence falls between two of them. Remy wishes she could see something beyond a blurry blue shape, and she frowns. "Alright, fine. Can I know your name at least?"

Names, another luxury that comes at too great of a cost. People die everyday, in horrifying ways. She almost met her end herself. Why would the asari risk putting herself through heartbreak by knowing—maybe even _befriending_ —a reckless idiot who clearly proved that stupidity has no limits?

Or maybe Kadara also taught this woman what happens to a desperate stranger trusting desperate strangers too.

Remy closes her eye again and tries to relax on the plinth—impossible, with how aggravated her muscles are just for lying on the damn thing. She still hates waiting the most. Her mind starts wandering, reliving, reflecting, judging; she needs a distraction. If only her hand was okay, then she could generate random equations on her omni-tool and focus on calculating them. Then struggle not to cry when her brain gets pissed at her for that too.

Ugh. No matter what she does, she's going to be in pain; but it's a reminder that she's _alive._

Something she wouldn't be if someone else made the assumption that they were only going to save a dead woman.

"Sa'mosa T'Lova."

Remy's head whips up in surprise, and she groans when liquid fire wraps around her brain a breath later. She massages her forehead—for what little good it does—giving the middle finger when the asari's laughter agitates her skull-splitting headache even more.

"If it helps, whelp, just think of choking Reyes for making us suffer over a decoy."

"A... A what?" Remy hopes she misheard. For that motherfucking shady bastard's sake, he better fucking pray she's misheard. She forces herself up on her elbows, trying to get a good look at Sa'mosa to see if the asari is just yanking her leg or not; but the shockingly sincere tone is a telling—and terrifying—sign.

"Didn't he tell you? We were just the _decoy's_ decoy, and we would've shuttered the shuttle anyways to throw the Outcasts off our trail. The crates we loaded were empty."

Remy stares.

It sinks in.

"Ryota! Get me off this fucking plinth right fucking **now!** "

-—-—-—-—-—-

"What happened to you two?" Reyes' brow arches when a familiar pistol is aimed at him. This time, Remy makes it abundantly clear the safety's off. It's a little hard not to be distracted by the woman's severe lack of pants though.

Not that he's complaining.

Reyes raises his hands in mock surrender to humor her, giving a charming smile, knowing she won't actually shoot him—not on purpose, anyways.

She doesn't have feral eyes like everybody else. Not yet.

"She can't actually see you, boss." Sa'mosa supplies helpfully, chuckling when the arm hooked around her neck tightens in a pathetic attempt to choke her.

"You've got some fucking explaining to do, Reyes." Remy growls, her hand quivering on the gun. "Do you always send your people on suicide missions?"

People, not 'partner'. Does this mean she's reconsidered his offer? Probably reconsidering her reconsideration now, by the looks of it.

"Suicide?" he asks, genuinely confused. He glances over at Sa'mosa, noting the trail of rusted blood on her leg plate. The asari shrugs. Reyes frowns and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Do I want to know what happened?"

"You better wanna fucking know what happened if you know what's good for you," Remy hisses, glaring—then cringing—when the asari chuckles. Is Remy walking around with a concussion? "Shut up, Sa'mosa! I've _eaten_ you before!"

Oh, the places that can go.

Laughter bubbles in Reyes' chest. He watches the exchange with great amusement, kicking back with a drink. When the asari looks at him for answers, he shrugs. "Samosa: human food. Hot and spicy." He winks at Sa'mosa, smiling suggestively. "I think our dear Remy is trying to say something. Do you need some privacy?"

"What?!" Remy's voice cracks and her throat grows crimson; a definite sign in his books. Too bad, he wanted to play with this fire. "Fuck no! Fuck you, Reyes!"

Sa'mosa nonchalantly reaches over and clicks the safety back on before Remy recklessly fires her gun; it wouldn't have hit him since her aim's moved significantly offside. She still sees enough to know where he is, it seems.

Reyes still has absolutely no idea what in the world happened to these women, but at least they escaped with their lives. He's admittedly grown numb to the deaths of his crew with how often it happens on every job, everyday. Recruiting is getting competitive. At least Sa'mosa knows the risks, and he's confident the ex-commando will take Remy under her wing, if she hasn't already.

He hides his smirk behind his drink as Sa'mosa sasses Remy, who meets it with equal snark. They're two different cards bearing the same suit. Slowly but surely, his crew is getting stronger. He just has to be patient and collect more cards before he shows his hand.

And kick Sloane out the game.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Fuck you, _food!_ I'll go back to Ryota on my own!"

Sa'mosa rolls her eyes. "How do you still have hot air in that head?" She frowns and crosses her arms when the stubborn human tries to limp away on her own; the mechanical legs alone provoke curiosity, but Sa'mosa knows enough that—even with the human's frequent childish tendencies—Remy has to be made of stern stuff to have survived and learned how to get by on cheap prosthetics.

Still, what the hell was Reyes thinking when he took her in? She's a pup who thinks she's alpha. Even if she bites, she's got baby teeth.

Well, it's not Sa'mosa's place to judge. She's a grunt like everybody else. She sighs and reluctantly goes to help when the reckless human tries to tackle the stairs, going so far to engage broken jets on her legs. "Hey, watch it, whelp! You're gonna set yourself on fire again!" At least she hasn't noticed that she's walking around in her underwear. It's a good thing that she can't see everybody staring.

Free entertainment, too.

"Shut up! I'm not taking advice from the one who ran away, _left me behind,_ and got shot anyways! At least I'm willing to do what it takes to get the job done!"

Willing to blow herself up for it too, evidently.

Sa'mosa groans, biting her tongue. She has every right to turn around and walk away right now; there's _zero_ obligation to deal with this stupid human... So what does that say about her, when she goes to help said stupid human?

"Save your energy," Sa'mosa urges, carefully—forcefully—taking Remy's good arm to hook around her neck. "Channel that energy and use it instead to think of a solution; we both know Ryota won't be able to do anything for your legs. What will you need to fix them?" Why's she asking? It's not like she's going to get the parts.

"I—" Remy starts, then suddenly stops. Sa'mosa looks up at her face, frowning when the human seems like she's ready to burst into tears.

 _And does._

"Oh for crying out loud..." Sa'mosa cringes when she gets a harsh elbow in the ribs. "Hey!"

"F-fuck you," Remy hiccups, "that joke sucked."

"What? I wasn't joking." Another elbow. "Cut that out!"

"You cut it out!"

That's it. Sa'mosa is officially lost. She has no fucking idea what this human is talking about; this goes beyond a concussion. Maybe Remy fried all her brain cells.

Ready to throw in the towel and leave this crippled woman to fend for herself, Sa'mosa starts to pull away. This human is only going to drag her down, and after today's stunt, it's safe to bet that Remy is going to end up killed in this line of business. She's put herself out of it for a while, anyways.

...But something tells Sa'mosa to stay when the human looks down, a look of sheer terror sweeping her paling face.

"W-where... Where are my pants?!"

Sa'mosa laughs. "Took you long enough to notice, whelp."

Remy's head whips up in a fury, the tell-tale grimace following soon after. When will she learn?

"Fuck you, food!"

Today marks the birth of a questionable friendship.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Sara makes the rounds, checking in on all of her teammates to make sure everybody's okay after a three hour debate in the vidcon room. She's sick of meetings; she can't even remember what they argued about, everything is a blur after they talked about whether or not exiles should be allowed to return to the Initiative.

And exiles are was what sparked the debate in the first place.

She wants to be out there _pathfinding,_ not politicking even on her own ship—but ETA to Kadara is eight hours away. She rakes her bangs back as she sighs, frustrated and buzzing with energy. She needs an outlet to blow off the stress _now_ and they're only flying farther away from the nearest bar. Well, there's Liam, but she just checked on him ten minutes ago and he's suffering in the same state as her.

One couch and two frustrated adults equals—

"God, what the hell is wrong with me?" she grumbles to herself, shaking her head.

It helps spark an idea though, a different outlet; but it comes with strings, even if she promised none. She stops wandering aimlessly and heads straight for the bridge, willingly giving up the prospect of sharing a beer with Liam, if only to spare herself from landing in scuttlebutt's spotlight.

So she lands in Peebee's room, also known as Scuttlebutt Factory.

"Hey," Sara starts gruffly, stepping inside until the door closes behind her. "Wanna hang out?"

"Uh, sure?" Peebee glances over her shoulder in confusion, then smiles mischievously as she sets her tools down and turns around to face Sara. "Wait, like zero-G hanging?"

One escape pod and two frustrated adults equaled—

"No, not that." Sara bites her tongue to stop from blurting an apology. She doesn't regret that time, but she regrets skipping a whole bunch of important stuff—like actually getting to know more about Peebee outside of the escape pod. "I just wanna hang out, do... I dunno. Can I watch you work?" There's an innuendo swimming in her mind; it's like she's a hormonal teenager right now, it's annoying.

Peebee stares dumbfounded, then shrugs. She picks up her tools and holds them out to Sara. "I've got a better idea: how about I watch _you_ work?"

"But I came here to relax~" Sara whines dramatically. She grins when Peebee rolls her eyes and drops off the tools, then circles around Sara. Before she knows it, she's being shoved into the escape pod and falls on the mattress. She panics and pushes herself up when the pod's door closes, stopping when Peebee plops down on one of the chairs.

" _Relax,_ Pathfinder." Peebee lilts, grinning roguishly. "I'm not ejecting us." She shoves Sara's shoulder, making her fall on her haunches. "Just figured you'd want privacy to vent."

"...Vent?" Sara murmurs, arching her brow when Peebee chuckles.

"You're makin' that serious face, askin' for serious stuff. That's not _you._ Every time you get tense, you end up venting to me even when I'm not listening."

Sara swallows the sting. "Good to know for the future. I'll take off my clothes to make sure I have your full and undivided attention." she tries to say lightly, but it comes off bitter instead. When Peebee laughs again, Sara looks at the doors, thinking about escaping the escape pod. She snaps out of her reverie when Peebee leans forward and playfully pulls her by her scarf.

"Well, I'm listening now, Ryder. I hear it even if you're not saying it. Could still use some work on getting my attention, though..."

"What are you—?"

Peebee silences her with a kiss. Something snaps inside, tearing Sara into two. She wants to pull away and she wants to push closer. Her decision is made for her when swift hands make short work of her jacket. She rises on her knees, pushing between Peebee's to deepen the kiss, to lose herself, to lose the overbearing weight of responsibility... Even if it's just for a second.

Guilt tinges her conscience when the kiss is broken and a husky voice fills her ear. " _It's okay._ "

"It's not okay," she protests, but doesn't stop. This is _using_ Peebee the same way Kalinda had, and she can't st—

"It is if there aren't any strings, Ryder."

Sara stops.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Lucifer Effect**

* * *

"I t'love samosas~" Remy sing-songs, laughing at nothing.

"Will shutting up kill you or what?" Sa'mosa shifts her glare to Ryota. "Look, I don't know what you gave her, but don't you dare give it to me. Just give me medi-gel."

"But applying it—"

"Doesn't take a genius; I've done it hundreds of times in my line of work. If you don't give me it, that dull stone is going to die if she gets mouthy with me."

Ryota frowns. "Are you going to come back for her when I'm finished, at least?"

The million credit question. Sa'mosa averts her gaze to the stoned woman giggling on her plinth; her burned hand now looks like a baton with how Ryota bandaged it, probably to protect it now that Remy's moving more erratically, thanks to the medication. She doesn't need it's help to be stupid. Sa'mosa sighs and nods reluctantly. She rolls her eyes when Ryota pats her shoulder.

"On her behalf, thank you. Support makes a world of difference."

"Credits make a bigger difference," she grumbles. "I'm only sticking around until she's able to pay up for my hospitality."

"Even though I'm doing the treatment?" Ryota counters as he hands her the medi-gel, wise enough to give her space and go back to Remy.

"Yeah, 'cause saving her ass and getting her here was a piece of cake." Sa'mosa drawls sarcastically, hopping off her plinth and swallowing the grimace as liquid fire consumes her leg—which only validates her point. "I got shot in the leg and I had to drag this dumbass around because she thought blowing herself up was a fantastic idea, and she had the nerve to keep bitching at me too. I could've given her a bullet instead."

"You could've," Ryota hums, eyeing Sa'mosa warily. "So why didn't you?"

"It'd be a waste of a bullet if this idiot's gonna kill herself with the way she works. More creds for me, then." Sa'mosa shrugs, uncaring of the doctor's frown. She's harsh, so what? She's still the nicest one in the crew. Remy is _lucky_ to have her as a partner, or the pup would be dead right now.

"Don't gimme that look, doc. Nobody's survived this long by being nice. You either take by force or manipulate people to get what you want, there's no in between on Kadara." Sa'mosa gestures to Remy with a point of her chin. "After what I've seen today, I'm giving it one week before she turns out to be the worst of us all."

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Did you know that if you hold a person underwater long enough, they stop being an asshole?" Remy quips, laughing at her own joke when the other patients don't seem inclined to. Tough crowd. She needs to keep playing stupid though, so that Sa'mosa keeps saying stupid shit that _she's_ going to pay for.

"Today is National Asshole Awareness Day. Share if you too know an asshole deserving of recognition." Remy pretends to flail her arm sluggishly, pointing at the asari.

"For someone who talks a lot of shit, I'll admit I'm curious about what comes out the other end." Sa'mosa deadpans as she leans against the wall.

"Pure~ gold," Remy drawls, grinning lazily. She rolls on her other side to hide the way her face falls in the coming disappointment. "I need parts for my legs."

"Then take it up with the boss and see if he'll smuggle them for you."

And this is why Remy has to hide her face. She hates asking for help from someone who's sooner to backstab her instead.

"What makes you think he'll help me?" she grumbles, frowning when she can already hear Sa'mosa's reply before it's out her mouth.

"What makes you think I will?"

" _Called it._ " Remy breathes silently. She twists her torso to look over her shoulder. "I can make do with cheap parts, I'll pay you back."

"Pay me first." Sa'mosa walks over, glancing at the mechanical legs. Confusion's swimming in her eyes, but her tone bleeds sarcasm. "I'm not a _genius_ like you, whelp."

"I'll send the list to your omni-tool," Remy blurts, taking advantage of the opportunity immediately. Maybe she'll get lucky if she forces her way in and try to impose some sort of obligation on someone who has _zero_ obligation. It's a gamble she'll just have to take... But she still doesn't trust this woman to not take her things and run.

Then again, Sa'mosa likely worries about the same; not that she seems to extend that courtesy and care for what Remy's worried about. Classic Kadara mentality.

"And my pay?" Sa'mosa asks pointedly, crossing her arms. "You'll send that too?"

Remy chews her lip, facing the wall. "I only have salvage right now."

"Then start doing the math and give me five-hundred credits worth. That'll cover labor"—what fucking labor?—"and interest. Your parts better be under two hundred creds."

"Jesus, you're milkin' a dead cow here." Remy groans, biting her tongue to stop her from slewing out cusses and insults. She glances over, meeting intimidating cutting eyes, and... Backing down, the number one thing _not_ to do on Kadara. There's something about this asari that rubs her the wrong way in more than one way.

But she can't survive if she can't be self-sufficient. Eventually, anyways.

"I haven't been to the markets so I need you to—"

"Forget it," Sa'mosa interjects sternly. "I'm not doing more than I have to." So much for labor. "Work with yesterday's prices, then."

Ugh, for fuck's sake... This obstinate woman has to go to the markets for the parts anyways; maybe she's hoping she'll profit and make a few extra credits. Regardless, this loss is going to be costly. Another—stupidly obvious—lesson learned the hard way: don't blow up a fucking shuttle.

Remy grinds her teeth in frustration, seething through them. " _Fine._ "

"See, was that so hard? No reason why we can't do business and still be civil." Sa'mosa squeezes her shoulder, deceivingly friendly. "I'm sending you my frequency. If you don't have my pay and the list by the time I hit the lift, the deal's off and you're on your own." She marches out the 'clinic', and Remy glances over her shoulder to deem it safe to shoot her middle finger. She's caught when the asari looks back too.

Sa'mosa grins sweetly. "You're welcome, by the way~"

Remy growls, slamming on her plinth with a huff, grimacing when the force pierces the medication's haze and punishes her with pain. Stupid fucking concussion.

But at least she's still alive, and gets to gamble for another day.

...Is the payout worth it, though?

-—-—-—-—-—-

Sa'mosa roams the marketplace, browsing wares to get the parts—and pants—for as cheap as possible. She smirks when she spots the ugliest pair of track pants and doesn't hesitate _at all_ to buy them; even if it's edging on costing enough to dip into her own pockets, it'll be worth it to see the whelp throw a fit.

Remy better be happy she's getting pants anyways. They're not on the list, after all.

"Exogeni M-spec magnets..." Sa'mosa murmurs, brow arching in confusion. She looks around the market. "Should've factored time in my pay too. Where the hell am I supposed to get this shit?"

"Oh, I have some. How much are you willing to pay?"

She glares when a turian comes up beside her, nonchalantly looking at Sa'mosa's omni-tool. She shuts it off. "No creds, just trading salvage."

"Works even better for me," the turian shrugs. "Got another list of what salvage you have?"

She's out of her comfort zone here. She hasn't gotten the chance to sell off Remy's stuff or check any of the prices; how's she supposed to know if she's getting ripped off or not? Sa'mosa reluctantly brings up the list and shows the turian, eyeing the krogan lurking nearby. Muscle. Useless in a cease-fire zone; she's got the advantage here with her biotics, if all hell breaks loose.

"How about two calibration coils for two magnets? Sound fair to you?" the turian asks.

"One coil for two magnets," Sa'mosa states sternly. She holds her ground when the krogan barks a laugh.

"You have no idea who you're haggling with, kid."

Kid? Who the hell does he think he is? Krogans don't live longer than five centuries, and five's generous. They always get themselves killed with their stupidity by then. Case and point, with the prosthetics this krogan has. He'd be the whelp's best friend.

"Then enlighten me, _grandpa._ " Sa'mosa fires back, aggravated when he laughs harder. She snaps and disengages her omni-tool, marching off; there's no way she's going to do business with deluded freaks. That's the easiest way to lose, especially if they don't look like they're going to budge on their prices. She'll have better luck intimidating the vendors instead.

...But she can't shake off the feeling that there's something off about those two. The boss should know about them; maybe share what he already knows, if she's lucky.

He better not recruit them though, or she'll eat her own bullets.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"I'm just here to extend the offer—" Sara starts, sighing when _another_ gun is trained on her: Sloane's.

"You think I'm going to go back to the Nexus, forget everything Tann did to us, just because they sent a girlscout to beg us to come back?"

"...Not exactly how I'd put it, but sure."

"I will _never_ trust the Initiative again." Sloane snarls, stomping forward, aiming at Sara's leg. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't shoot you now."

"Because I'm the messenger and not the message," Sara quips, shrugging casually. She needs to keep calm if she doesn't want a new hole in her body. "You think Tann will give a fuck if you shoot me, when this whole galaxy is always trying to kill me? He doesn't know I'm here anyways. I'm not asking on his behalf, I'm asking on mine. And the reason why we all came to Andromeda in the first place."

Sloane stares, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "So your plan is to get the exiles to come back, when the Nexus doesn't want us? Are you a fucking idiot?"

That stumps Sara. Maybe she should've thought about the ramifications before flying over here, thinking everybody will just randomly be on board with a fresh face nobody even knows. "Hey, now, no need for name-calling. I'm just saying—"

"Get out," Sloane groans, shaking her head as she holsters her pistol and heads back to her throne. "Consider yourself lucky that you get to walk away with your life, after wasting my time." She sits down and leans back, propping her leg up on her knee. "And consider this a _warning_ the next time you think about doing it again. You won't be lucky twice, girlscout."

"It's Pathfinder," Sara pointedly corrects, raising her hands in mock surrender when the bodyguards muscle her out at gunpoint. "Thanks for the royal reception, your Majesty."

Well, that was productive.

Time to be even more productive and hit the nearest bar.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Humming cheerfully, Suvi watches the surprisingly bustling life of Kadara from the safety of her station. She monitors everybody's body cams and tunes in to the comm chatter of whatever appears to be a dangerous situation, which is... Pretty much all the time.

Cora's deft handling of a daring exile trying to haggle for the Nomad—and Cora with it—has been the most impressive, thus far.

Curiosity nags Suvi every time she glances at the datapad dossier on her dashboard, wondering if the exile she replaced on the Nexus is now here. It likely wouldn't be possible to track the exile though; but if Initiative supplies were stolen when the revolt was kicked out, there has to be some traces of _something_ in some system.

So, basically: she's still looking for a needle in a haystack.

Suvi idly nibbles on the flesh of her cheek. It can't hurt to try. "SAM, can you run a search for an exile by the name of 'Remedy Kedar' here? Transactions, or medical records?"

 _"One moment. I will run multiple searches through all available databases. Please wait as I am prioritizing the Pathfinder's needs."_

"O-oh of course yes, take however much time you need, SAM. Thank you!" Taking a deep breath, Suvi braces herself for a painfully long wait. She tries to distract herself by watching the body cams; the timestamps are excruciatingly slow. One moment feels like an eternity, even when SAM comes back with answers in mere seconds.

 _"Ms. Kedar is currently under Dr. Ryota Nakamoto's care."_

Yes! Sort of. Does she want to ask why a doctor's involved?

 _"She is suffering a concussion, burn wounds, two fractures, and multiple malfunctions."_

She wishes she asked _not_ to know why the doctor's involved.

Suvi's throat tightens and her heart sinks. "Do we know what happened? Is that stated in the records?"

 _"No. With the volume of patients Dr. Nakamoto is currently experiencing, and running a check on other patient records, many indicate the patient does not wish to reveal why."_

Probably to hide evidence of criminal activity. Suvi frowns at the thought, but... She understands. Sort of. It's just depressing to think that the brightest innovators came here to explore a new galaxy, accomplished and survived what was once thought to be an impossible trip, only to be reduced into becoming the common thug.

Suvi sighs, trying to shake free of such dejecting thoughts. One peculiar thing stands out to her most. "You mentioned multiple malfunctions; of what?"

 _"Ms. Kedar is in possession of experimental prosthetics based on Seraphtech Industries' design. They are augmented limbs capable of experiencing the same sensations as skin, be controlled by thought, and are modifiable to suit a civilian or soldier's needs."  
_

Without thinking, she blurts: "what are her needs?"

 _"I cannot answer accurately without more data. However, judging from the specifications included in the design, I speculate hers will be more in line with a soldier's needs."_

Suvi glances over at the dossier, frowning. "Isn't she a mechanical engineer?"

 _"Yes, but based on what I have observed of the exiles' culture"_ —can it truly be called culture?— _"it would be wise to have several options to defend oneself."_

A culture where showing one's back provokes another's autonomous reaction of stabbing it. Suvi would like to hope this exile hasn't fallen in line with that mentality, but her mother's been part of countless studies that often proved just how much of an impact and influence the environment has on an individual.

Still...

"Can we help her? Would it be possible to open a comm channel with her?" Suvi has no idea what she wants to say or do, but maybe it'll become clear in the moment. This notion of needing to reach out to this exile is a mystery to her too... But she wants to put this feeling behind her and move forward. She needs to stay focused on the mission, especially if the fate of the entire Initiative rests on their shoulders.

 _"That would not be advised. It would expose our systems to possible malware and I recommend extreme caution in any action taken to communicate with exiles."_

Suvi slumps in her chair. "Oh... Okay." There has to be _something_ she can do. It can't end here without a fight, not with Remedy fighting for her own life.

 _"You are disappointed. I am sorry."_

"No, no, it's alright. After everything we've seen and heard thus far, it's a necessary precaution. Thank you for helping me out anyways, SAM."

 _"You are welcome. If I may, why are you interested in Ms. Kedar?"_

Suvi pauses, looking up at the ceiling in thought. How is she supposed to explain something she doesn't entirely understand herself—and in a way an AI could relate?

Then she smiles.

"I suppose I'm just curious about her and want to learn what sort of experiences she's had—having—so far."

If AIs could pause, she'd swear SAM does for a fraction of a second.

 _"Like my relationship with the Pathfinder."_

"That's the connection I was going for," she chuckles.

 _"So you wish to have a relationship with Ms. Kedar?"_

Suvi chokes.

-—-—-—-—-—-

" _Fuck,_ " Peebee gasps, trapped between a wall and a woman. Teeth graze her neck as bruising hands squeeze her hips; she knows she's going to have marks from this later.

That's discouraging how?

" _Quiet,_ " Sara murmurs, pushing her knee in between Peebee's thighs. "Or we'll be kicked out, and the bartender will never let us in here ever again."

"People will see us before they hear us," Peebee retorts, rolling her eyes because of Sara's logic; rolling her eyes because of Sara's leg, too. She holds on for dear life, biting her lip with every delicious push and pull as friction alone sets her nerves on fire. She laughs when someone bumps into Sara and makes her lose balance. They're none the wiser even when they're shoved off and topple to the ground. Drunk, no doubt.

Frustration is definitely the cause of all this. Peebee can feel it in the way Sara handles her roughly, and whatever happened this time needs to happen more often.

Husky breaths fill her ear, and she groans when a desperate hand slides down her pants. This part's new. Usually Sara has to be coaxed to hurry the hell up and get to the good parts. "Who pissed you off?" Peebee asks breathlessly, smirking when her answer is muffled grumbling against her shoulder. "What was that?"

"Tell you later," Sara rasps, finalizing their 'conversation' when she nips under Peebee's jawbone. She shrugs, deciding to enjoy the ride.

Why spoil it?

Music pounds loud enough to vibrate through them, and the coil in the pits of her belly is tightening fast. Her head falls forward and she bites Sara's shoulder to try to stifle her moan, clinging and cussing, trying to stall her climax instead. She wants this moment to last longer; but she falls apart, caving where she stands, caught by quick hands.

" _I got you,_ " Sara whispers, knocking their foreheads together.

Peebee gulps for air, laughing breathlessly. "You sure did." A small voice urges for her to pull closer, but she pushes away instead. These thoughts are starting to nag her more.

She knows she's not the only one nagged by them, and she definitely doesn't like that part either.

"We need to piss you off more often if _this_ gets to happen to me after, Ryder." she quips with a playful smirk, shoving Sara's shoulder.

Something flashes by Sara's eyes too quickly to discern, but it makes the pits of Peebee's belly twist—and not in a good way this time. She knows something's wrong when Sara smiles, but it's different. It's too tight. It's not _her._

Before Peebee has a chance to ask, Sara heads for the bar. The disappearing act isn't different; they always go back to business after a bit of fun.

So why does it get so hard to breathe every time she leaves?

Peebee doesn't like it, because she knows what it means, knows their deal is crumbling; knows it'll hurt less if she leaves first.

It gets so fucking hard to breathe just to think about that, too.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"What took you so long?" Remy grumbles, slowly pushing herself up on her elbows. She squints and tries to concentrate, grimacing at the fresh wave of pain. The painkillers have worn off.

"Had trouble finding some of your stuff," Sa'mosa shrugs. "Ran into weirdos, too."

"You just described Heleus in four words." Remy grins when she gets a bop across the shoulder. "Gotta say, I'm impressed."

"Plenty more where that's about to come from again. Saved you the time of getting and packing your parts instead of dragging your ass to a meeting spot; aka ambush."

Remy stares incredulously. " _You_ have brain cells? I'm impressed and shocked now."

"Don't steal my line!" Sa'mosa laughs; it's rather uncharacteristic of her. Suspicious. Then her face falls flat. "I've killed people for less."

Much more like her. Asshole.

"Yeah, yeah." Remy glances over at Ryota, wondering how long it'll be until she's allowed to be free of this place. She slowly pushes herself up into sitting and swings her legs over the plinth. "So where are the parts? Can I start fixing them here?"

"You think you can fix _those_ while you've got a concussion?" Sa'mosa arches her brow pointedly. "You sure you ain't gonna blow yourself up?"

Remy rolls her eyes, grimacing when pain shoots down her skull. "You're never gonna let me live this down, are you?"

"Nope." Sa'mosa smirks mischievously. "Aren't you glad I saved you—and your job—now?"

"Sure," Remy grunts, waving her hand. Subtle itchy buzzing thrums at the tips of her fingers to ping her omni-tool. She ignores it for now, not wanting to open something in front of Sa'mosa. There's no telling what else this snake will try and squeeze out of her. "Anyways, are you gonna gimme my stuff or are you waiting for applause?"

"I was waiting for a medal actually. Didn't you say you were impressed?"

"You're relentless," Remy chuckles. "I'll design your medal once I can move."

"I'm holdin' ya to that, champ." Sa'mosa winks, waving over her shoulder as she leaves the clinic. "Be back in five. Or ten. Gotta remember where I stashed it all."

Fantastic. So the stuff could already be stolen. "I take back what I said about your brain cells!" Remy yells, huffing when faint laughter echoes. She ignores the dirty looks from the other patients as she carefully works her way back to lying down, immediately moving on to the next distraction before her thoughts start swimming to the deep end.

Cringing along, she forces her bandaged arm up to engage the omni-tool. Remy frowns when there's an encrypted message from an unknown sender. "A scammer, I bet."

But... How did they get her private frequency? She's made sure to run a cloaking program to prevent any sort of detection during her poker games.

Curious, Remy decides to scan the file for possible malware. The attachment is what's giving her pause. This omni-tool is her lifeline, if there's a virus that is capable of corrupting the interface—maybe even all her implants synced to it too—then it's not worth the risk. She goes to delete the file even when the scan comes clean.

Another ping.

" _The hell?_ " she mutters under her breath, eyes widening when there's another message: an electronic statement of... Transferred funds?

No, really. What the hell?

Opening the statement, Remy's jaw drops. She swiftly minds her mouth and clamps it shut before anyone grows suspicious of her reaction. After a credit transfer like _this,_ she's definitely liable to becoming a target and get ripped the fuck off in ways she'll never even think possible. Good thing she didn't open this in front of Sa'mosa.

Who would do this though? Surely this isn't Reyes' pay. The other message with the attachment must be connected to this. Remy takes the dive, honestly praying this isn't another reckless mistake; one thousand credits can _feed_ for a long time. She won't have to worry about working with an empty stomach again.

Trying to keep her hope contained and her hand from shaking, she opens the attachment only to get stonewalled by a two-part encryption.

 _[Of what equation is this formula for?]  
{(x, t) ∈ R³ X R: x = φ(t)}_

Remy has a few seconds before the formula disappears. She'd remember anything that frustrated the _fuck_ out of her in university, though, and types her answer when a box pops up: _[_ _Partial Regularity Theorum for the Navier-Stokes equation.]_

Hopefully the answer is keyword unlocked rather than typing something very specific. She takes it as a good sign when the next 'question' pops up.

 _[Caesar -7  
Solve: lnob tgptk]_

"What the fuck?"

If this is seriously what keeps her away from one thousand credits, she's going to cry... But she already has it, right? She got the statement that it's been transferred to her—however this person even managed to find out all this information. It's still too suspicious; maybe the emails themselves are fake and only look real? Should she back out? Is it too late to back out?

The cipher disappears and she panics. Remy types in whatever the hell her fingers feel like typing—shift down the alphabet by seven—staring at her answer in confusion.

Staring in disbelief when it **works.**

 _[suvi anwar.]_

Is that a name? Who the hell is that supposed to be? It doesn't ring any bells. A fellow engineer? It has to be someone familiar with that equation; someone who's no stranger to mathematics, and one who apparently has a fondness for the simple caesar cipher. Is she—or he—the one who donated the credits? Why? Is this a set up to lure Remy into an intricate scam?

It'd fit the theme and scheme of Kadara.

Wary, she exits her email and runs a maintenance scan to ensure it's completely bug-free. She powers her omni-tool down and relaxes on the plinth, her mind racing and aching as she tries to solve the puzzle behind this mysterious transaction. Is it an ordered hit or what? Maybe this 'Suvi' is someone Reyes wants her to take out in order to secure the funds for sure. Maybe this is Sa'mosa in disguise; they did exchange frequencies today, after all. She's definitely a highly likely suspect for scamming the fuck out of Remy.

If only there were a way to communicate safely, without any worry of possible malware or other dangers that might put—not _just_ —her at risk.

For now, all she can do is wait.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Lucifer Effect**  
Author's Note: Thanks a bunch for your feedback and follows, everyone! I'm honored and humbled :) Hope you all continue to enjoy!

* * *

Intrigued, Sa'mosa watches the human work on her legs, tuning in to every expression made. Most—if not all—of them are grimaces with a healthy dose of curses.

"You need help, whelp?"

"No," Remy seethes through gritted teeth, fumbling with a wrench as she tries to tighten a bolt at an awkward angle.

" _I'll_ be dead by the time you finish this," Sa'mosa teases, grinning when the stubborn human shoots her most menacing glare. "Oh~ so scary."

Yeah, no. There's no way _anyone_ will take Remy seriously with gaudy gauze slapped over her eye, a bandage-baton for a hand, and still no pants.

"Just so you know, I have a fucking missile in my knee." Remy growls, diving back in to try to secure another part. "And we both know I have a history with fucking up and blowing shit up."

"Namely yourself." Sa'mosa smiles sweetly when Remy scoffs. "All I have to do is crush you with my _mind_ before your baby missile shows itself, whelp." Sa'mosa hops off the crate and kneels in front of Remy, stealing the wrench and slapping the human's hand away. "Just let me help, we ain't got all day. The boss ain't payin' ya to sit on your ass."

"He's not paying, period. I didn't get a job from him. Guess he figured I'm outta commission for a while."

"I got one, but it's definitely a two person job—which is his roundabout way of giving it to both of us. Well, I could ask someone else in the crew, but... Wanna be my plus one?" Sa'mosa shrugs, tilting her head to look behind the knee. She's never seen prosthetics up this close; best not to let the human catch wind of that. She looks up, her curiosity piqued by how Remy seems adamant to stare at other patients instead. Is she not worried about herself, or is her concussion killing what little's left of her brain?

Sa'mosa decides not to draw attention it, electing to take this opportunity to study the mechanical legs; not that she has a freaking clue what this technology does, but any scrap of knowledge is an advantage on the battlefield—especially in their line of work.

Silence falls as she works on tightening all the nuts and bolts, stealing glances and frowning whenever vivid agony strikes across Remy's features. What's happening to this idiot _now?_ She's clutching the crate with white knuckles. Her body looks like it's crying through it's sweat.

"What the hell's wrong with you, whelp? You don't feel this, do you?"

" _Yeah_ _,_ " Remy wheezes quickly, gulping air. " _Feels like you're drilling a nail in me._ "

Duly noted. No wonder she was so bitchy after the rescue from the shuttle, with burned 'legs' too.

Sa'mosa bites her tongue to keep her wise-cracks to herself for once. She needs a partner to fly the shuttle on this next job, after all... And a _partner_ in a different sense. Out of everybody else in the crew, she'd rather work with this reckless fireball than some uptight turian or arrogant krogan. At least the human makes things extra interesting.

" _Hurry up,_ " Remy rasps in pain. Sa'mosa almost chews her out for it, but backs down at the quiet: " _please._ "

"Workin' as fast as I can here, just hold on a little bit longer." Sa'mosa crouches lower and dips her head, running her fingers along the calf to feel for anything that doesn't feel screwed in. Her eyes snap up, alarmed by the shuddering breath Remy takes. Her face—the half Sa'mosa can see, anyways—is nearly crimson. "Oh for the love of the Goddess... If you're about to blow up, warn me first. I don't want to end up as collateral damage."

"N-no," Remy coughs, "I'm good." She fidgets on the crate; she's too anxious for Sa'mosa's liking. She watches keenly, alarmed when Remy chuckles nervously. She usually puffs up and blows hot air out her ass, what gives this time? "Any chance you've got a spare pair of pants stashed somewhere? I'll take anything."

Uh...

"You just looked like you were gonna rip my crest off, and now you're worried about pants?" Sa'mosa frowns, double checking to ensure everything looks good on the human's legs before she stands, crossing her arms to intimidate the truth out of Remy. "That concussion of yours messin' with you or what?"

"I wonder," Remy mutters, brushing Sa'mosa off with a dismissive wave. "I'm just cold, okay? Do you have something or not?"

Sa'mosa bites the inside of her lip to try to keep a straight face, but she can't. The moment the corner of her mouth quirks up in a smirk, the gig is up and Remy's eye narrows in suspicion. It's now or never. "Sure do, whelp, somethin' that'll warm ya right up." She takes off her backpack and eagerly opens it, a grin splitting her face at the sight of the tacky tracks.

She made sure to pack them on top.

"Here ya go, _darling_ _._ " she drawls sarcastically, throwing the pants at Remy. She turns around and leaves, whistling innocently. "When you've made yourself half-decent, meet me at the Warden's gate. I promise we're gonna have tons of fun on this next job." She knows she will, anyway.

After a precise countdown, she looks back in _perfect_ time to see the human passionately execute the flipping of the bird.

Sa'mosa laughs, lilting to ruffle the pup's feathers. "You're welcome, by the way~"

"Fuck you, food!"

-—-—-—-—-—-

A hazy fog grips Remy and she can't shake it off. She groans when her guts clench, bile crawling up her throat as slow as molasses. She's hunched over in her seat, her middle finger on standby for every time Sa'mosa's laughter pierces the fog, hugging her knees and praying for this nauseating dizzy spell to end.

" _Let me out,_ " she wheezes pathetically, " _I'm gonna die._ "

"Oh, quit being a baby. You literally survived worse yesterday." Sa'mosa reaches over to pat Remy's knee. "You're just fine, darling."

Remy's cheeks warm. " _Fuck you._ " Ugh. That loses it's bite when she croaks like a fucking frog, and this asshole's amused by it too.

"Hey, how's my driving?!" Sa'mosa yells as she _rolls_ the fucking shuttle, and Remy's stupid baton-hand punches herself in the mouth. "This is a special asari commando move!"

" _Go_ _fu_ — _oh god..._ " Remy holds on to the dashboard for dear life, trying to ignore the swimming in her head and her stomach. "I promise I'll projectile vomit on you if you keep this up! Quit fucking around, and let me drive if you don't know how to."

"You don't know where we're going." Sa'mosa retorts nonchalantly, stabilizing the flight. Eventually. "You're in for a galaxy of hurt if motion sickness is a problem."

"Your _flying_ is my problem!" Remy forces herself to sit up straight, glaring at the smug asari. When will karma stop bullying Remy? "Where are you taking me, anyways?"

"You ask that like I'm kidnapping you."

"For all I know, you _are_ kidnapping me!"

"Well." Sa'mosa shrugs. "You're not wrong."

" _What?!_ "

"Relax! It's a set up, and you already look the part of a hostage. A fake-kidnapping. No big deal."

Remy freezes, her eye widening in disbelief. "No big deal...?"

"Yup! No big deal. We'll be back home in time for happy hour if you don't blow this up."

Okay. So she's at the mercy of this asshole, and she's a hostage in a smuggling business, and human—literal—trafficking is... _N_ _o big deal?_

Remy doesn't waste a single second and launches a strike, assaulting the laughing woman with her fucking baton-hand. "This isn't funny, you soulless fucking—ugh!" She huffs as she slams back in her chair, if only to try to stop the hammering in her head and the pounding in her throat. "What the hell is the job this time?" She crosses her arms awkwardly, grumbling. "And if I don't like it, my 'baby missile' is still enough to blow us out this fucking sky."

"Dial down the drama, darling. Just pretend you're selling flesh and we'll be fine. We're here."

"Selling flesh?" Remy's eyebrow arches in confusion. "You mean I'm a pimp, right?" Her eye narrows dangerously. "For your fucking sake, you better mean I'm the pimp."

"You're a genius, aren't you? I'm sure you've already figured out what I actually mean. Isn't this a dream come true for you? We've been getting screwed the moment we came to Andromeda, so this shouldn't be anything new." Sa'mosa reaches over, slapping a hand over Remy's mouth... And stuffing a ball inside. Even when Remy tries to take it out, an invisible force casually keeps her hand away and the ball stuffed in her mouth. She glares at the **ass** ari. "Oh, is that a look of worry, darling?"

Remy seriously needs to design a look that literally kills.

"Now now, save the hostility for once we're inside. I'm sure you'll settle in your _role_ naturally, after all the practicing we've been doing by insulting each other all day." Sa'mosa winks, focusing on the controls to land the shuttle. "Reyes promised a bonus with this one. Just let me handle the talking and keep the barking to a minimum, or your hothead will be the reason why we'll be dancing in front of him with stupid looks on our faces. _Again._ "

Remy scoffs. She glances over when Sa'mosa bounces another strip of cloth on her hand. "Tie this and make it look like it's keepin' the ball in your mouth. Oh, and take the hat off. Untie the 'tail, make your hair look wild and messy. Looking the role is half the battle." Sa'mosa grins mischievously. "Good thing you've got the constipated pissy look down perfectly. Get loads of practice there too, huh?"

Ugh. Remy gives a pointed look and makes a point by trying to grab the strip with her bandaged hand. She spits out the gag. "See this? What part of me screams 'hooker'?"

"You _did_ walk all over the place without pants, remember?" Sa'mosa laughs, the heartless harlot. "You'll be fine. Some people are into freaky shit as long as it has breasts."

Remy smacks across the asari's crest with the stupid baton-hand, looking away to hide her smirk. "That bonus better be worth my dignity, T'Lova."

The laughter stops abruptly. Remy doesn't dare look, but her smile grows when she gets a friendly bop across the shoulder.

"Would I lie to you, darling?"

Remy looks over, hoping her face—all half of it, thanks to the damn gauze and gag stuffed back in her mouth—is enough to scream **yes.**

Sa'mosa grins. "You're right, I would." She leans over to tie the strip around Remy's mouth. "And if you want to stay alive, remember that I'll lie to you when it matters most."

...That's supposed to make sense, _how?_

-—-—-—-—-—-

Faint music plays behind Suvi. She glances at Sara, who's sleeping away with headphones on, slumped against the email terminal.

How Sara's even comfortable like that transcends comprehension _—_ alcohol may have something to do with that this time, though. Party animal.

Still, this sight never ceases to bring Suvi amusement. It's worth coming back on-duty earlier, stealing peeks at the sleeping beast to recharge her own dwindling motivation.

Sara's ponytail has come partially undone, sticking out in all sorts of angles from the friction of her sliding down the terminal. The mental countdown begins as Sara's back inches closer to the floor. Suvi smiles knowingly as she quietly climbs out of her station, making a fresh cup of coffee. She bites her lip and tries to suppress the laughter bubbling in her chest at the startled snore. Looking over her shoulder, she smiles at the dazed woman on the floor, staring into blank space.

"Welcome back to the living, Pathfinder." Suvi greets pleasantly, even if she can't be heard above the music. She walks over and kneels as she holds the coffee under Sara's nose. Hopefully the rich aroma will help rouse the sleep-muddled soul fully awake.

"Where—" Sara starts loudly, stopping to turn her music off. She shimmies up on her elbows and blinks at Suvi, confused. "How'd I end up here?"

"Same reason you end up sleeping anywhere on this ship. We just don't know the reason yet." Suvi lies, purposefully keeping the rowdy party at the slums' nightclub a secret. She smiles when Sara shrugs her mystery off and sits up to accept the coffee.

"Thanks, Suvi." Sara stands, then looks up at the ceiling with a focused expression. It's most likely due to SAM speaking on a private channel—not that Suvi's been observing _that_ much to have learned such a thing, of course. Sara looks down at Suvi, a suspicious smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

She's got a plan.

"SAM's informed me that Kallo wants a few more hours of rest, and I don't trust our auto-pilot." Sara gestures to the door, lifting her mug to cover her smirk. "At least, that's my excuse. Wanna go out and see what else Kadara has to offer? Great time for you to stretch your legs, see something besides the ship. Or from the ship."

"Excuse, hm?" Suvi's brow arches, intrigued. The puzzle pieces itself together when Sara simply shrugs innocently—a shameless facade. "Ah, yes, I understand. I don't trust our auto-pilot either." Suvi glances over at her station, wondering if she should take her things. Probably not if she doesn't want to get mugged.

They _will_ be safe, right?

Well, nothing horrible has happened so far, and most of the crew is all over Kadara. There have been a surprising amount of _nice_ exiles too, genuine people who are just trying to make do. It gives her hope to know that not all have forgotten that they're pioneers, not pirates. Suvi follows the Pathfinder out the bridge, amused by the bounce in Sara's step as she leads them to the cargo bay.

Suvi smiles, well aware of the bounce in her own step too. Maybe, by some miracle, she'll run into Remedy.

...Hopefully the exile hasn't forgotten that she's a pioneer too.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Sara takes a deep breath in, even though she's put off by the humid air's horrible stench filling her lungs. Can air even be smelled? Well, it's better than Habitat 7.

Her mood threatens to plummet at the memory.

Laying down—uncaring of the porous rock—she adjusts her headphones so that one is still over her ear. She folds her hands behind her head and looks up at the deceivingly picture-perfect sky, letting music work it's soothing magic as she also listens to the excited muttering nearby.

In a couple hours from now, she's probably going to receive another email attachment about dirt.

Sara chuckles to herself, glancing over in Suvi's direction. The woman's face is illuminated by her omni-tool as she scans fungus growing out a boulder.

"You look like a mad scientist right now," Sara teases, pushing up on an elbow to get a better view of her colleague in action.

Suvi's lips quirk up in a subtle smirk, and she moves around the boulder to scan another set of minerals. "You wouldn't believe the data I'm compiling from this alone. I don't get much hands-on experience anymore, especially with fascinating samples like these. The Nexus science team is going to be ecstatic once I send this analysis to them."

To be honest, Sara has a hard time understanding what could be so exciting about this, but... At least someone is. Without the science team, she wouldn't have her fancy gear. She smiles idly, laying back down and soaking in the sights of a familiar blue sky. It's both comforting and disappointing that some things haven't changed across galaxies—though, it was _probably_ slightly irrational to dream of neon-colored skies. Is a permanent aurora really unreasonable?

Thoughts screech to a halt when Suvi comes up into view, though upside down. "Are you bored, Pathfinder?"

"What?" Sara's eyebrows furrow in confusion. She shakes her head, adjusting her headphones when they slip. "Oh, no, it's okay. I'm doing my thing and you're doing your thing. Just hanging out and relaxing, yeah?" She smiles casually, pondering why Suvi seems to be frowning instead—or is the whole upside-down thing just messing with Sara's head?

Instead of an answer, Suvi sits down beside Sara. Something about the whole atmosphere feels like it's shifting in a direction Sara doesn't like, and she tenses. She hates tension. Her headphones are plucked right off of her.

Nevermind, she hates this more.

"Hey!" A jolt of _something_ surges through Sara, though it's not immediately clear what. Worry? Panic? Whatever it is, it feels even worse when Suvi slides the headphones on, closing her eyes.

"Piano?" Suvi asks, smiling softly. "It sounds authentic instead of the holographic simulated ones. How old is this song?"

Another jolt surges through Sara—this time: anxiety. Has she mentioned she hates tension? She laughs nervously, rubbing her nape when Suvi's eyes open and hone in on her. "It's not old." she blurts, shrugging, looking away... But scooting close enough to hear the music too. She needs something to ground her before this tightening feeling in her chest soars out of control.

"So... Someone had a real piano back in the Milky Way? You? Or someone you know?" Suvi holds one of the muffs against her ear, spinning the frame of the headphone to give the other muff to Sara, who takes it without hesitation. Tension plateaus even when the calming sounds resonate louder, failing to drown out the white noise buzzing in her brain.

Sara says nothing, still uncomfortable that someone else is listening to these songs. At least she's not pressed for an answer, though her curiosity gets the better of her. She steals a sideways glance, relaxing just a little bit more when she sees Suvi's eyes closed.

So Sara does the same, closing her eyes and breathing in tune, becoming immersed in the music. The white noise slowly fades away.

"Whoever is playing this has a gift," Suvi murmurs softly, entranced.

Sara's chest aches, and her lips quiver in a bittersweet smile as she whispers her correction.

" _Had._ "

-—-—-—-—-—-

"What part of _let me handle the talking_ didn't you understand?!" Sa'mosa shouts as she leads them down another corridor, entering an adjacent building littered with crates and shipping containers. A storage room. A dead end.

Not one Remy plans to meet literally.

"I didn't say anything!" she laughs breathlessly, grinning when Sa'mosa shoots a dirty glare. "What? He shouldn't'uv touched my ass if he didn't want his fingers broken."

"Ugh, you're impossible! Worst fuckin' hooker alive."

"Well then next time, you can be the hooker! Everybody has a weird fetish for the asari."

Remy tries to brace her ribs when sharp pain shoots up and down her side, flaring up with every breath taken—and there are _a lot_ of breaths. She's injured seven ways to hell and she's no soldier, she tells herself. It isn't a good enough excuse to comfort her for grumbling how out of shape she is. If only she brought her hoverboard.

...On second thought, that would definitely end up as another one of her worst ideas ever. Sa'mosa would try to ride with her.

Then kick her off.

"Hey, didn't you say you're a commando?!" Remy asks, pushing past the pain as she follows Sa'mosa to take cover behind stacked crates. "I thought asari commandos were the best soldiers ever, or some bullshit like that. Why are you running away if you can throttle them with your mind?"

"Have you _seen_ how many assholes there were back there?" Sa'mosa growls, checking around the corner. "Commandos fight best one-on-one, and I can't stop a hundred bullets coming at us all at once." She unholsters her shotgun and tries to give it to Remy. "Take this. Shoot at anyone who tries to flank us and I'll—"

"Are you insane? I'm an engineer, not a soldier! How the hell am I supposed to use this with my bandaged hand?"

"It's your life, though I doubt you'll care about excuses after you're dead." Sa'mosa shrugs as she dumps the weapon in Remy's arms anyways. "I'm confident you'll learn fast." Sa'mosa makes a show of her hands, wiggling them. "I'm a huntress, not a Goddess. There's only so much my biotics can do; but if we fight smart, we'll survive. Consider this your crash course on guerrilla tactics."

Nearly every word bleeds out to white noise as Remy stares at the shotgun awkwardly cradled in her forearms, her heart pounding in her ears. She's never killed anyone with her own hands. Bile rushes up too fast to stop and she keels over to puke, the ringing growing deafeningly loud, drowning out whatever Sa'mosa says.

"D-dizzy... Gonna faint," she blurts, back hitting the crate before her mechanical legs give out underneath her.

And suddenly, everything is pitch-black. Quiet.

 _Calm._

Something touches her gently, and in the darkness, a lighthouse appears at the end of a raging storm. The beacon glows brightly, guiding her, comforting her.

" _Where am I?_ " she asks silently, her shapeless mouth moving. She's in a body she can't see. " _What the hell is this?_ "

Wisps of whispers surround her, embracing her, soothing her... Somehow. She still doesn't understand. Instinct welcomes these sensations instead of giving rise to suspicion. She feels every breath in exact increments as her lungs fill and empty, eerie at how _clear_ it is without the hazy fog or the constant agony wracking her mind and body.

Over time, a sense of serenity drapes over her... And shatters. Her eye snaps open, yelping and flinching back, startled by charcoal eyes right up in her face. She blinks in confusion, the world fading in and out as she tries to make sense of it. Then it becomes crystal-clear.

Sa'mosa massages her forehead, groaning lowly. "Goddess, your brain is all kinds of fucked up... Never doing that again. Think I gave _myself_ a fucking concussion."

"W-what...?" Remy stares incredulously, head turning to the sound of gunfire nearing rapidly. Oddly enough, there's no reaction to it; not like before. She's nervous that she's _not_ nervous. This tranquility is nothing she's experienced before. She watches Sa'mosa stumble back to the corner of the crate, and in a blink, her eyes are back to normal.

It clicks.

"Jesus, did you _meld_ with me?" Remy rushes to Sa'mosa's side to catch her before she falls out of cover, completely disoriented. "Hey! What the hell is happening to you?!"

A loud bang screeches in the air, then a series of shrieking. Remy barely hears Sa'mosa cry out in pain above the shots chipping away at their crate. She can pay later for violating Remy's mind without permission... Even if it was to help, but who knows what that help cost?

Another gunshot makes her snap.

"Fuck sake... You assholes are begging for a new asshole!" Remy growls, turning around and picking the shotgun up off the ground. She tears into her bandaged hand and unravels it with her teeth, trying not to look at the disgusting slime of medi-gel coating the mass graveyard of popped blisters. Her hand looks like fucking bubble wrap _after_ it's been in a toddler's hands.

Kneeling, she engages her omni-tool to deactivate the missile's safeties in her leg, then clenches her jaw and slews cusses in a meager effort to tolerate the pain when she pries up the knee cap. It's going to be weird walking like she's got no knee, if she fires; she's only ever tried to without having a loaded missile in the first place.

But no matter what happens, she **will** walk away intact—intact _enough_ —to deal with whatever consequences may come from her recklessness now.

"T'Lova, how do I fire a shotgun?!" she yells over her shoulder, stealing a quick glance at Sa'mosa. The dazed asari props herself up on the crate, heaving heavily. Sa'mosa collapses on her hands and knees, turning until their backs are pressed together. She blindly hooks a hand on Remy's shoulder and an influx of energy buzzes through her; it almost feels like she's being imbued with an extreme case of being hyper as _fuck,_ and she has no idea how to release this charge. It's like she's one big broken capacitor now.

"Biotics—" Sa'mosa rasps, taking huge gulps of air. "Barrier, absorbs some recoil too."

"What? You're not making sense!" Desperate, Remy pops the shotgun around cover and dares steal a peek. She yelps when a raider immediately opens fire on her... And her jaw drops in fascination when the bullets simply bounce back. She wishes her shields could do that; something to design once she quells this chaos.

Her guts clench and she seizes up when a ricochet kills the raider, and a piece of her shuts down, detaching from reality and treating it like a nightmare. This _is_ a nightmare. It's not because of her that he died. She didn't kill him. He did that to himself. She didn't kill him. It's not her fault. _She didn't kill him._

"Brace the gun against your shoulder," Sa'mosa wheezes, clumsily turning and hunching over Remy, repositioning the way the shotgun's held.

"Hey, get your fuckin' breasts off my head!"

Weak laughter graces her, and she _almost_ smirks. Another raider bursts into the room. She freezes, but Sa'mosa's hand smooths over hers and forces her finger to pull the trigger. The jolt kicks against her shoulder and she grunts, her eye rolling back in pain when her burned hand chafes against the hilt. The raider cusses and dives to take cover behind another container.

"Missed," Sa'mosa hisses, "y'gotta _aim_ _,_ whelp. Use the sights."

"You say that like I've had _any_ kind of training with guns!"

Sa'mosa either ignores her, or pretends not to hear her. There's no other option. "We need to pick them off as they come in or they'll all just overwhelm us again, and there's nowhere left to run. This is our last stand." Her tone's strained. Pressure is mounting. "Take a deep breath and focus, my barrier will protect you even if he fires at us."

"I..." Remy grits her teeth, genuinely trying to listen. Pain splits down her skull whenever she concentrates, and her vision is still blurry. The mayhem of emotions that tormented her before are flooding back. "I can't see, though." Excuse after excuse after excuse. She's afraid of turning into her machines—into _a_ machine, just like everybody else. Eat, sleep, kill, repeat. She can't turn into that; let her machine be the monster instead. "I need my turret—"

"Well then set one up!" Sa'mosa snaps, her composure cracking. "My biotics won't work properly if my brain's a scrambled egg. You fucked this up, now fix it!"

But the 'solution' means killing a person, a person that used to be like her; a pioneer that came to Andromeda with high hopes and dreams, with a contribution to make.

The raider used to be like _her._

Fear takes over when he hurdles over the container, charging towards them, having learned his rifle's useless against the barrier. He takes out a shiv. Remy panics and pulls the trigger, crying out as even the subtlest recoil makes liquid fire sear down her hand, feeling like it's ripping her fingers right out the sockets. When the smoke clears, her eye widens in shock and her stomach violently churns.

Blood pools around the motionless body not one meter away from her, the stomach cavity shredded open, intestines exposed like some massive fleshy fucking tape worm.

The raider is _her_ now.

"Well," Sa'mosa sighs, "now we know how rotten he is on the inside."

"...Just like me." Remy mutters numbly.


	5. Chapter 5

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: I apologize if things have been pretty slow burn. In my mind, all these events were like a sentence long, and actually typing them out is now drawing out to chapters long. There are still a few things to clear on Kadara so please be patient for a wee bit longer! Thanks again to all readers and reviewers for leaving me gifts, and I hope everybody continues to enjoy!

* * *

Silence plagues the shuttle. Sa'mosa struggles not to snap out of frustration; she's got nothing to squeeze the shit out of and the human's neck is tempting her.

Especially since Remy won't snap out of her stupor.

She's shell-shocked, Sa'mosa gets that. She still remembers her first kill. It's not something she'll ever forget, but it is something she got used to a century ago. She quietly stalls and flies aimlessly as she lets Remy sulk, having given up goading the reckless fireball into exploding. Sa'mosa definitely hates this anger more: the cold gun instead of the smoking barrel.

"What about the job now?" Remy asks, numb and indifferent. "Whoever's paying Reyes isn't gonna be happy."

"Nobody on Kadara is ever happy, pup." Sa'mosa shakes her head. "Don't worry about it."

Don't worry about it? The boss is going to be pissed that they still managed to fail even the simplest fucking job. Remy is costing more credits than she's worth, and she already knows too much. She'll be lucky if she walks away from this one unscathed. Surviving that last clusterfuck only stalled certain death; Reyes—or at least whoever the client is backing this job—will make sure of that this time.

Sa'mosa chances a glance, disheartened that the wildfire that once burned is now replaced by lifeless eyes. How has this whelp survived this long without killing someone? Why is she this bothered by it anyways? It was in self-defense, after all. Their backs were against the corner. They had no choice.

...But it was one of their _own._ It was one of _them._

"I'll fly a little longer if you wanna get some sleep." Sa'mosa sighs, engaging the haptic interface to alter the flight path. She looks over when something snakes around her wrist, stopping her. The burned hand, still slimy from the medi-gel and grotesque with drained blisters. She frowns when she looks up at Remy. "Even I know you haven't, whelp. You _need_ to even if you don't want to."

"Happy hour." Remy's flat tone and the haunted look in her eye grates Sa'mosa's nerves, but she desperately holds on to patience.

The boss better have a good explanation as to why he's paired her with the new blood who's never drawn anybody's blood but her own. He must've figured Remy's temper would get in the way of jobs likes these... Or is that why he's giving them, so that she tames it? Maybe there's hope for Remy yet and he'll still somehow see a use for her.

Somewhere that won't be six feet under.

"T'Lova?"

There it is, that name; even if it's the surname, even if there's still distance... It's closing that distance. It's dangerous.

Why befriend a dead woman?

Sa'mosa sighs, guiding the shuttle to a safe hiding spot for the crew to keep an eye on. "Happy hour." The human probably won't be able to sleep without knocking herself out anyways. As long as she doesn't kill herself with ryncol, it's—wait, why does Sa'mosa care anyways? She better not hit her matron stage—or even skip all the way to matriarch—just because of this idiot. Only one way to find out if she's still a maiden: party. "Drinks on me; I've earned a few with Umi."

"...Do we have to go up to the port?"

"Unless you plan on buying drinks with the creds we don't have, we're settling on freebies." The burned hand slips away. Remy sinks in her chair without a peep, rubbing her shoulder with a grimace. Sa'mosa glances over and notes the growing bruise. "That from the shotgun?"

Remy sucks in a sharp breath. She looks out the viewport. "Yeah."

"Goddess help me," Sa'mosa whispers under her breath, focusing on the controls to land the shuttle. "We'll stop by Ryota again; maybe he'll give you something better than drinks."

Remy scoffs. "I want to get drunk, not high." She surprises Sa'mosa with a playful bop on the shoulder. "Otherwise you'll kill me for getting mouthy with ya."

"Are you saying you won't if you drink?"

"Not after I pass out."

"Smartass," Sa'mosa laughs. "Glad your sarcasm still survived that shitshow, Remy."

She likes it when the human grins.

...This partnership is getting too dangerous.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Bandages and painkillers, Remy's most hated cocktail. She flexes her fingers, grateful he hasn't wrapped them like a stupid batting club again. She stuffs the bottle of pills in her pocket and leaves the clinic, heading over to where Sa'mosa is waiting for her.

Sa'mosa jerks her chin to the bandaged hand, smirking. "You look like a boxer, champ."

Remy pays her back with a punch, rolling her eyes when the asari laughs; it's fake, but not unwelcome. It's nice to know that even Sa'mosa has a scrap of decency.

"Alright, let's go. Stick close and hopefully they won't nag you to pay the fees." Sa'mosa leads the way to the lifts, constantly stealing peeks over her shoulder.

Remy pretends not to notice them; pretends not to notice the worry, too. "I'll be fine after I get hammered," she waves dismissively; if only she could wave the memories away too.

"And drilled in bed?" Sa'mosa quips, grinning mischievously and chuckling when she gets another punch.

It's the only thing stopping Remy from blurting: _"by you?"_

If only she could punch the ideas away, then blow them up so there's not a shred of evidence of them ever existing at all to begin with.

Stupid Reyes, it's all his fault. If he never made a comment about them needing privacy, she wouldn't have these ridiculous thoughts of them hooking up. Besides, having a trustworthy partner—a _friend_ and not a lover—is a far more precious commodity here. Even if Sa'mosa can't be trusted with business, at least she can be trusted to have Remy's back. Sort of.

Tension creeps in, and the long ride up to the port isn't helping any. Remy fidgets, ignoring the asari's noisy exhale, knowing she's annoying Sa'mosa. Remy chews her lip. "I hate waiting."

"I can tell," Sa'mosa drawls playfully, but the frustration is clear in her tone. "Why are all humans so restless? You'd be screwed if you were an asari."

"Wouldn't I just be the stereotypical maiden?" Remy fires back, smirking when Sa'mosa looks up thoughtfully. "Got you there."

"I dunno~" the asari lilts. "Haven't seen you pole-dancing at Tartarus. Can't be a fully-fledged typical maiden without working as a stripper first."

"Ugh," Remy shudders, grumbling. "I just had a traumatic image of that. Thanks."

Sa'mosa shrugs. "Better than other traumatic images." she mutters, coming out louder than she intends, judging by the remorseful grimace that crosses her face.

Neither dare to break the silence for the rest of the ride up.

...Not until Sa'mosa gets a ping on her omni-tool.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Another rowdy party. Suvi has no idea where the Pathfinder gets all this stamina from; perhaps SAM's capability and access to her physiology is more complex than initially understood? She smiles politely whenever Sara looks over at her, laughing at a stranger's suave—and horribly cliché—pick-up lines.

However tempting it is to let loose, even Suvi has her reservations about doing it _here._ She's not as able to defend herself as Sara is, either. At least Drack's here.

But he's drinking too.

Resigned to her fate, Suvi slowly tends to her drink and keeps smiling—however strained—when the Pathfinder taps her shoulder at every terrible joke. The only thing she doesn't understand is how Peebee appears perfectly okay that a random man is flirting with Sara; it's no secret the two are an item. It's even more mind-boggling that Peebee and Sara are tag-teaming and flirting _back._ Youth has no qualms with any type of adventure, it seems.

Realization hits her. Suvi's stomach sinks in utter horror, and she nearly chokes on her drink. " _Ohmygod,_ " she whispers silently, hand crawling over her mouth. " _Am I an old woman?_ "

Thankfully, something catches her eye and distracts her from the dreadful epitome, tethering her attention to the far end of the bar. Her heart soars to her throat.

"Remedy?" she mutters under her breath, incredulous. She leans on the bar to try and get a better look, ignoring the way Sara keeps bumping into her or tapping her back. The woman has gauze over her eye and her hand is bandaged, but the fingers are exposed and they definitely look like they've seen better days; didn't SAM say Remedy is suffering burn wounds?

Suvi knows better than to let curiosity ponder on what the gauze over the eye is for. The rowdy asari beside Remedy appears to be a friend, but the deadpan looks Remedy shoots give Suvi pause. They—evidently—don't give the asari any pause as she hooks an arm around Remedy's shoulders, laughing. Worry trickles in when Suvi studies the exile's expressions—or rather, lack thereof. She hastily averts her gaze and pretends to drink when she's almost caught staring.

Counting in her head, she waits all of a minute before she looks up and watches Remedy again; Suvi leans against the bar to appear as inconspicuous as possible. She steals glances, wondering if she should approach the exile and unmask herself as the benefactor who wired the credits to Remedy's omni-tool.

Wait, wouldn't that make Suvi seem like a snob then? What a lovely introduction that would be; and great advertising herself as a potential target too.

But if the engineer decoded the cipher—

Remedy looks in Suvi's direction. She doesn't avert her gaze in time and freezes when their eyes lock. She falters and uses her drink as an excuse to look down, swirling the cup and watching the alcohol slosh inside, trying desperately to ignore the warmth collecting under her cheeks; how embarrassing to have been caught for blatantly staring...

Suvi counts the seconds in her head again, waiting two minutes this time. When she looks up, her stomach sinks for a different reason: Remedy's disappeared. Her asari friend—if she's more of a friend than like the stranger flirting with the Pathfinder, anyways—is still in the same spot, chatting with the bartender.

And then Suvi's heart soars to her throat for a different reason too, startled by a bandaged hand that slides up beside hers and drums along the bar.

"Why is _Nexus_ staring at me?" Remedy growls vehemently, her heated voice dripping with venom.

"N-Nexus?" Suvi asks, steeling herself as she turns just enough to see the exile push another man away from the bar, saddling up beside Suvi.

"You're not an exile; your uniform's too prim and proper." Remedy points her chin offside, to Sara and Peebee partying in the corner. "Same with your buddies. You're all too clean. Either it's your first day, or you're Nexus." she seethes as she leans in threateningly, snarling. "For your sake, this better be your first day."

Suvi swallows thickly. She has no idea how to answer that won't just garner even more hostility than she apparently already has; and all this over her _uniform?_

"Do you think I owe you something, or do you owe _me_ something?" Remedy's eye narrows dangerously, but it seems... Hollow. Mindless.

It reminds Suvi of a feral animal, but this one's still caged— _voluntarily._

"I-I'm..." Suvi leans back for some space, bumping into Peebee by accident. The drunk asari laughs, hooking both hands on one of Suvi's shoulders, resting her chin on the other. Suvi holds her breath and tries to pinch Peebee inconspicuously, praying the drunk asari will mind what she says, somehow.

"Hey~ who's your new best friend?" Peebee drawls playfully, winking at the engineer.

For the love of all that is holy, _please_ let no one say Suvi's name. She has a very strong feeling that Remedy will only be more upset about the credits.

If only Suvi listened to SAM...

"Nobody," Remedy grumbles gravelly, crossing her arms—or trying to. She scoffs when she fails and helps herself to _Suvi's_ drink. "No such thing as friends on Kadara." She slams the shot back, never taking her eye off of Suvi for a bloody second. Suvi flinches when the mug smashes the counter, and Peebee whistles mockingly when Remedy comes closer, her face an inch away. "Especially for _Nexus._ Get the fuck out, we don't need you assholes. Not after you 'helped' ruin everybody's lives out here."

"I didn't," Suvi blurts, "I was in cryo during the revolt. I was only thawed because you—" she bites her tongue. **Hard.**

Remedy grins wolfishly. Her cutting features now look nowhere near to the fiery hope emblazoned on her file's picture. "Don't stop there, Nexus." Still 'Nexus'... Would it kill her to ask for a name? Not that Suvi would be willing to give it, now. "Blame games are my favorite." That's not what this is! "Because I what?"

"Hey, what's going on here?" Sara asks, walking over. Peebee drunkenly laughs—no damn help whatsoever—and slides off of Suvi to hook her arms around Sara's shoulders instead. She almost looks like she's not going to be of any help either, by the way she grins mischievously with the asari.

Suvi sighs. She's on her own here.

"Suvi?"

But at least she's got help to be utterly _screwed_ now.

Suvi doesn't dare look at Remedy—already feeling the atmosphere change for the worst—and turns to Sara, smiling pleadingly. "Can we go, Pathfinder?"

"Is everything alright?"

No. No everything is most definitely a shite show now, but Suvi bites her tongue on that too and nods. "Yes."

"No it's not," Remedy interjects coldly, grabbing Suvi's wrist. Sara and Peebee react and come up protectively. Remedy glances at them and sighs as she lets go of Suvi, but holds her forearm out. "Connect your omni-tool with mine— _manually,_ so I know there's no chance you're running any malware. I don't need your credits or your pity, or to get suckered into owing the Nexus shit."

Suvi hesitates. SAM warned her of this, even though she knows there's no chance either, but... She glances over at Sara, who's confused expression screams it all: _"what the hell is going on here?"_

There's going to be a long chat after this, and Suvi's not looking forward to it.

"It's not out of pity," Suvi urges, frowning. "I didn't do it out of an expectation that I'd get something back. Otherwise you'd have gotten a return address, no?"

Remedy's eye narrows, but doesn't say anything. She jerks her chin to the omni-tool. Suvi caves in and reluctantly brings her forearm up, engaging the omni-tool, hovering the haptic interface beside the engineer's. "I just wanted to reach out to you," Suvi mutters sullenly. "I wanted to connect with you, to see if you were okay. You're the exile I replaced, and I heard about your injuries, a-and I wanted to..." She worries her lip. "To help."

And...

Nothing.

Her heart sinks when Remedy still remains silent, typing enough to garner suspicion, but focused to return the credits; like Suvi's method, a cipher needs to be decrypted.

Remedy disengages their omni-tools abruptly when the stranger—that Sara and Peebee had been partying with—comes over. "Remy," he grunts gruffly, then clears his throat, assuming a smooth and flirtatious tone. "You look like you've seen better days."

Remy? And they know each other?

"Something I won't be seeing anymore, right Reyes?" she retorts ominously, and Suvi exchanges confused looks with Sara. Remedy leaves before the stranger—or Reyes—can get another word in, but Suvi doesn't miss the stern look he gives to the asari that hung out with Remedy before. Reyes then puts on a playful front as he smiles charmingly at Sara. His conversation with the Pathfinder—mostly her questioning him—is tuned out as Suvi opens the encryption.

 _[Caesar -1  
Solve: tmknbj]_

Suvi chews on the inside of her cheek as she hesitantly types the answer in: _unlock._ Her heart drops to her stomach when she reads the unlocked message.

 _[I don't need your credits, I need your help. I'm going to be hunted down as soon as I leave the port. The asari that will follow me, my 'partner', is the one who will kill me. She's already warned me. Don't bother trying to save a dead woman. I have your frequency now, I'm going to send you a navpoint soon._

 _I don't know who you are, but I'm out of options and I have no choice. Please do everything in your power to protect them.]  
_

Protect 'them', who's them? Suvi's no soldier. She looks over at Sara and Peebee, both suddenly a whole lot more sober than they were a few minutes ago. Peebee puts up a lighthearted front as she comes over and hooks an arm around Suvi's shoulders, but the serious look in her eyes betrays her facade.

"I'll take the heat and make sure Ryder doesn't ride your ass over this, but giving some random exile your money?" Peebee shrugs brusquely. "Real dumb move. You're lucky that things didn't go wrong in all the ways they could've. If you really feel like throwing credits away..." Peebee nudges Suvi playfully, winking. "Then throw them my way next time."

Suvi's shoulders slump dejectedly as her head hangs forward. "Do you think the Pathfinder will be mad?"

Silence. Not a promising sign. She looks up in dreadful time to see Sara march over, crossing her arms. "Explain, Suvi. **Now.** "

Peebee somehow finds something to chuckle at. "There's your answer. But..." Her voice drops to a shell of a whisper. " _Not at you._ "

Suvi squirms under the Pathfinder's stern stare. When the stranger—Reyes—pushes his way out the crowd, Sara's demeanor changes at the flip of a switch. Suvi flinches when the Pathfinder raises her hand... Only to squeeze Suvi's shoulder, her tone rife with eagerness.

"Okay, shady bastard's gone. And before you start: SAM already told me everything, and we _will_ talk about this later—but for now, tell me what you need. How can I help?"

Suvi blinks, staring blankly.

Her legs nearly give out on her when Sara's offer sinks in.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Sa'mosa slews cusses as she carries a heavy prosthetic leg under each arm. "She used the fucking missiles, that should've knocked off a few pounds..."

How the hell did that asshole walk around with these pulling on her hips? It should've been back-problem galore.

"Well, she won't need these—"

"Freeze!"

...Ugh. Can this day get any worse?

Sa'mosa sighs, but she doesn't bother stopping. She focuses her biotics on a barrier and keeps walking. A shot chips away at the ground a few meters from her feet, and she shoots a deathly glare at the assholes trying to stop her. They're in Initiative gear. Fantastic, _t_ _hose_ people. This day just got worse.

It wasn't meant to be a fucking challenge.

"I'm the delivery guy," Sa'mosa drawls sarcastically, throwing the legs down without a care. "The messenger. I'm _innocent_ here."

"Cut the crap and don't play stupid, where is she?!" A scrawny human barks, jerking her head around to coordinate her team.

"You look like a bobblehead," Sa'mosa teases, smirking. Her gaze is drawn to a familiar tall figure lurking behind the commanding human. Great. The turian from the market.

"I won't ask again: where is she?!"

"Technically"—as another annoying asshole would also point out—"you asked again." Looks like the Initiative has no shortage of reckless humans who act in the moment, never thinking. Sa'mosa crosses her arms when another shot is fired beside her feet. "Do you have any idea who you're trying to intimidate?" she asks, forcing herself to look bored to sell the act. "This is _Kadara,_ honey. What the pirates do here as part of their morning routine would scare your nightmares."

The short human marches up to Sa'mosa, who stands her ground. Just a few more minutes before she gets her ticket out of here. She smirks when tiny fingers hook on her neck plate, pulling her to try to bring her down a few inches. "Listen, asshole, I'm the fucking _Pathfinder._ If you don't tell me—"

"All I hear is another pup barking, thinking she's alpha." Sa'mosa glances over her shoulder at the monolith in the distance, muttering. "Hope you've got a brain, unlike her."

"Remedy's alive?"

Remedy? Is that her name, or a joke? At least she's smart enough to go by a better name.

Sa'mosa scoffs, kneeling to pick up the legs as she counts down the seconds. Quick bursts of explosions ring out at the monolith. "She won't be for long if you keep letting her do _that!_ " she yells as she takes advantage of the chaos and rushes past the Nexus hounds to where she parked her shuttle, bumping into the turian to make up for her inability to give the middle finger.

Remy better survive this shit and—once the dust settles—pay Sa'mosa back for all this trouble. It would've saved them both time if she just shot the human, especially if Remy seems hellbent on blowing herself up anyways. But... At least the boss left this mission up to Sa'mosa to interpret: acquire 'proof' for the client that Remy's dead.

This better get through that fool head of hers not to screw up future operations, _if_ she's even allowed to work in this outfit anymore. At least she gets to walk—crawl—away with her life. That's more than fair, she should kiss Reyes' feet for how compassionate and forgiving he is with this.

Sa'mosa struggles not to roll her eyes at that; it's _so_ obvious he favors pretty faces. Maybe he still sees a use for Remy, if she survives today. Sa'mosa steals a quick look over her shoulder before she boards her shuttle. The Initiative goons are halfway there. Goddess willing, Remy is still alive.

Another explosion. Sa'mosa grins when there's a series of them soon after, igniting a fiery array of colors. "That cocky asshole. Putting on some fireworks too, huh?"

She forces herself to turn away, telling herself she's not worried.

 _...Liar._

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Go to bumfuck middle of nowhere, Ryder said." Peebee grumbles under her breath, ignoring the heat digging between her eyes; Cora's undoubtedly the culprit with the way she's shooting daggers over her shoulder. "There's something important there, she said. I bet that navpoint is leading us into an ambush and we're—"

"Suvi trusts the exile," Cora interjects sternly. She motions Jaal with hand signals as she takes point, then waits for him to hide.

"Uh~ duh." Peebee rolls her eyes. "That's how the pirates win every time: they fool the foolish."

"She's anything but, and you should know better than to insult the team that goes out of it's way to help you when you need it." Cora growls, sending another heated glare over her shoulder. "If you feel so strongly against this and object to our objective, then turn around. Jaal and I will handle this."

"What, don't trust me to have your back just because I don't agree about getting mine stabbed, like you?" Peebee retorts, scoffing when Cora says nothing. She's steaming in silence about the same concerns, no doubt. It's even more annoying when she just soldiers on even when she doesn't agree to this shit either.

 _"I'm in position."_ Jaal reports on the comms. _"No hostiles except for turrets on the roof. I can provide sniper fire to distract them, get you close enough to shut them down."_

"Turrets? Called it, it's a freaking ambush!" Peebee frowns, giving Cora a pointed look—who's so obviously avoiding looking back at her now.

 _"They appear to be defensive in nature."_ For a fleeting moment, Jaal pauses. Peebee doesn't like the worried tone just barely overshadowed by his confidence. _"I recognize the design; they're angaran. Peebee, I can send a frequency that should allow you to hack into their protocols, but... It will have to be manually shut down."_

"You mean just walk right up to them? Nuh uh, no thanks." Peebee waves dismissively, hoping Jaal can see her through his scope. "Can't you shoot them out? You're sniper extraordinaire, right?" She crosses her arms, tapping her foot impatiently when Jaal coughs over the comms. _Now_ Cora is giving her a pointed look too. Peebee shakes her head. "Hey, you seemed real confident that you two can handle this, so..." She shoos away with her hand, shrugging. "Feel free to handle this, soldier extraordinaire."

A frustrated sigh tumbles out of Cora, and she jogs over to take cover behind a bolder to assess the building's mounted turrets from a safe distance. For all her posturing, Peebee caves and reluctantly follows. She bumps shoulders with Cora, ignoring the glower as she peeks over.

"Open space all around, there's no way I can reach them even if Jaal distracts them." she mutters, trying to think of another way around. She dares steal a sideways glance at Cora, who thankfully doesn't appear to care about the swift change of mind.

"If we—ugh, I already know the answer to this." Cora groans, conceding anyways. "If we combine our biotics—"

" **No.** "

"Knew it."

"Did you forget? I do my best work solo."

"And yet the Pathfinder thought it was logical to team us up, maybe because we can at least agree that we disagree." Cora drawls sarcastically, plucking Peebee's nerves.

"What, you think you can do better?" she challenges, not oblivious of her _dangerous_ desire to protect Sara. Peebee watches keenly when Cora turns away from her.

Suspicious much?

But when Jaal reports in on the comms again, Peebee's heart sinks _for_ him.

 _"Two angarans exited the building and are now leaving the premises on foot."_ A sharp inhale, a shaky breath. A deep sense of dread instinctively accompanies confusion.

 _"T-they're... Children?"_


	6. Chapter 6

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Warning: When we hit Remy's perspective the third time, it's a vivid psychological horror. If you'd like to skip this then pay attention to the line "faint beeps rouse Remy" and scroll to the next line break. I'll give warnings in the future as well, but it is part of Remy's angst package and is a representation for all the trauma she's suffered—both short-term and long-term. Shit _really_ hits the fan in this one, brace yourself and hope you still enjoy!

* * *

Somewhere on this god-forsaken planet, Sa'mosa is smiling without a care in the galaxy.

"Fuck."

Sums up how Remy feels about that.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Hey boss, I got your trophies! You have my credits?" Sa'mosa grins without a care in the galaxy, waltzing into the usual meeting place with a prosthetic under each arm. For once, she got a ridiculously easy job with a great payout. She can already see credits collecting right before her eyes. _Cha-ching cha-ching_ is all she hears. And she smells—

...Ozone?

When the door slides open, her eyes widen in shock. Smoke wisps away from Reyes' gun barrel. The corpse in front of him is outfitted in Outcast colors, and shards of glass are all over the table with a puddle—of what's likely cheap rum—pooling on the floor. How the hell did that Outcast find out about this hideout?

"Ah, you're finally here..." Reyes smiles deceivingly charmingly as he aims the gun at her. "No hard feelings. It's just business."

He fires.

Sa'mosa doesn't materialize a barrier in time.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Shit, shit, _shit..._ " Remy growls, dragging herself to the other side of her makeshift cover to fix the turret on the verge of overheating. She should've asked Sa'mosa if they could go pick up the hoverboard back 'home', but then the weaseling asari would know about the kids. Every soulless mother fucker would trip over each other just to try and get a bargaining chip like that. Remy might as well sell herself off into slave labor, then.

And it wouldn't come as a surprise to her if they did something to those kids anyways.

Beads of sweat roll down Remy's face and she rips the gauze off her eye, slewing cusses when the world is one big clusterfuck between clear and blurry. Pain radiates across her head whenever her eyelid tires out and refuses to close; the chaos unfolding around her is starting to make it nigh impossible to concentrate.

Explosions sear the air as the remnant trip more sensors, and her poor turret desperately tries to pick off any approaching stragglers. At first she was nervous if there'd even be an Assembler left to scavenge it's legs—and somehow modify them for herself—but at this rate, she'll be lucky if she walks away with a chance to scavenge tomorrow.

Well, crawl away.

" _Fuck._ As soon as I see her, I'm putting a bullet in her ass for doing this to me... Who's the idiot with stupid ideas now?"

So what does that say about the idiot who agreed to another idiot's stupid idea? Sa'mosa would just argue that Remy's the bigger idiot for listening, no doubt.

Ugh.

Make that two bullets—one for each _cheek._

Agony splits down her skull whenever a deafening ring pierces the air. She's lost half her sight, half her arm, both her legs, and soon: her goddamn hearing. "Payback for all the fucked up shit I've done..." she grumbles under her breath, focusing on her omni-tool's radar as she coordinates her turret to attack the closest remnant.

Aches buzz at her shoulder, and she makes a passing glance at the shotgun she left on the other end of her cover. If only Sa'mosa lent more heat clips too. What the hell was Remy supposed to do with just two? The realization that she's done something reckless is sinking in again; and far too late, as usual.

But this time there's no one to pull her out of her own fire.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Just so you know, this doesn't make us best friends." Peebee grumbles, walking just a little bit behind Cora so that in the event that their biotics fail, then at least the turrets will get the crazy commando first.

"Trust me. I wasn't anywhere _near_ thinking that." Cora drawls sarcastically, sighing. "We're almost there. Adjust your biotics so that—"

"Why me? You adjust _your_ biotics. Mine are just fine."

"Can you work with me just this once? This may come as a newsflash, but this isn't about you right now."

Peebee bites her tongue before she fires off another retort. If only she were rewarded for this sacrifice; Ryder better make it up to her for this, and help her recharge on the patience she _doesn't_ have. A shot rips through the air the moment the turrets engage and aim in their direction, and Peebee jumps in her skin.

"Jaal's covering us, move!" Cora grabs Peebee's wrist and forces her to run, both bracing to deflect when a turret ignores Jaal's firing anyways; the gun winds up and shoots at them, dispersing energy as their biotics tune together instinctively; frighteningly too, for Peebee anyways.

 _"Peebee, I'm sending you two frequencies!"_ Jaal buzzes in on the comms. _"Each turret uses a different one; but if it's the wrong frequency, the system will lock you out."_

"So I've got one shot? Great..." Peebee groans at that. She rips her wrist away from Cora's grip and splits away the moment they hit the building's walls, hugging them to remain under the turret's blindspot. Bullets shred and chip away at the ground only a few inches away from Peebee, and she curses Ryder under her breath.

Worst of all: this has _nothing_ to do with remnant.

...But it's obviously already personal to Jaal. She can get behind that.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Liam!" Sara shouts as she charges forward, ignoring the warning lights flashing on her omni-tool about the dangers surrounding her. There's little fires everywhere.

Looks like they just found hell.

"Already on it, Pathfinder!" Liam dares rush towards the flames; Sara's protest dies in her throat when he leaps through them.

"Not exactly what I wanted him to do, but okay..." she grumbles under her breath. She takes cover and motions Vetra to move around, watching the turian engage her power armor and follow Liam's lead instead. "Not exactly what I wanted her to do either." Establishing and exercising Pathfinder authority is clearly a work in progress with no one actually _fucking listening_ to the Pathfinder.

If only she stopped partying and joking around, but she treasures her sanity.

What little she has left.

 _"Pathfinder, I've found her!"_ Liam shouts over the comms, making Sara cringe at the volume; when it drops to a husk of a whisper, her gut sinks. _"...Fuck."_

Tells her the whole story.

Sara braces herself for the worst and dives out of cover, joining Vetra on the assault with remnant being suppressed by a turret that looks like it's on the verge of exploding.

And Liam is right beside it, with the exile.

"Liam, how's she looking?!" Sara shouts on the comms herself, biting her tongue not to smirk when she catches Liam cringe. Not the time to joke.

 _"She's unconscious, but she's breathing..."_ Liam mutters curses under his breath when he turns on his omni-tool, hovering it over Remedy's body. _"And not for long. We need to get her to Lexi right **now.** "_

"Got it! SAM, relay to the Tempest that we need an emergency extraction at my location!"

 _"Yes, Pathfinder."_

Sara makes her way over, holding her breath and taking a leap of faith through the barrier of flames. What was this exile thinking? Even if she defeated the remnant here, she'd have burned herself alive with how she's trapped herself. And with all these explosions tearing this structure apart, they—

Deafening cracks resound in the air. Sara looks above her, her heart soaring to her throat when she sees one of the towers buckle. "Shit! Everybody get out of here, now! This place is collapsing!" She starts sprinting for safety until she glances over her shoulder to check on her team, stopping when she sees Liam pick up and sling the exile over his shoulder.

He's not going to make it in time.

"Liam, don't be an idiot! Drop her or you're going to di—"

The turret beside him explodes, knocking him off his feet; the tower crashes down, blocking Sara from going back to help him.

Liam's chilling scream is the last thing she hears.

-—-—-—-—-—-

 _"Liam?! Liam!"_ The camera shakes as the Pathfinder scrambles to the debris. _"Say something, please! Vetra, help me dig him out!"_

Suvi watches Sara's body-cam in horror, heart wrenching at the desperation in the Pathfinder's voice and her actions as she claws away at the rubble. Liam's comm-link plays nothing but static. To her left, the team at Remedy's navpoint is having difficulty disabling the turrets. The world's turned upside down in a mere second.

And it's Suvi's fault.

Terror grips her when Liam's fractured helm-cam flickers on and off, moving wildly. At least he's moving.

Suvi changes his camera's settings into night-vision mode to see what he can't in the darkness, and adjusts the comm's frequencies in hopes that software repair is all the QEC link needs to work on their end. She ignores the concerned looks Kallo keeps giving her; she'll be fine as soon as _everybody_ comes out of this alive. Her stomach churns violently when she catches glimpses of what—who—Liam sees when he looks down at his arms.

"Oh my god..." Her hand instinctively crawls up to cover her mouth and she looks away, squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as possible to stop the tears before they pool. She has to hold on to hope, just as Liam has to hold on to Remedy.

That has to be a sign that he thinks they can still save her, right?

Liam shows a thumbs up directly in front of his helm-cam, and Suvi melts in her seat with relief. Nobody else sees these feeds but her and SAM, and she has an inkling that this gesture is meant for her. She tests the comm-link but connecting privately to his. "Thank you, Liam." she murmurs shakily, still gripped by apprehension.

 _"No problem Suvi!"_ Liam's strained tone still manages to inspire confidence, and he adjusts how he holds Remedy so that he gives another thumbs up. Suvi laughs.

Until his camera pans as he looks over at his foot, pinned down by rubble.

 _"Uh... But I have a problem—don't think the others can hear me. Help?"_

"Just stay where you are." As soon as the words tumble out of Suvi's mouth, she cringes, even when Liam sniggers. Of course; where else is he going to go if he's trapped? "The debris is interfering with the signals; I'll connect to Vetra's comms and—oh, SAM, can you relay all this information to the Pathfinder?"

 _"Already done, Dr. Anwar."_

"Right, o-of course..." Suvi's hands refuse to stop trembling. She swallows thickly, still buzzing with nervous energy. She closes her eyes when Liam chuckles on the comms.

 _"Deep breath, Suvi. Number one rule in Crisis Response: focus on the essentials. We're all alive."_

She smiles, inhaling steadily. Then chuckles. "How are you the one calming me down when you're the one trapped beneath rubble?"

Liam takes his helmet off, aiming the cam at his smug grin. Suvi rolls her eyes.

...And sets to work, confident that nothing could possibly go wrong anymore.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Faint beeps rouse Remy, barely conscious. It's too blurry to see, too stale to smell.

And too painful to feel anything else.

In seconds, the quiet haze is stripped apart by bone-crushing agony. Remy screams, muffled and choked and silent and—something holds her down before she has a chance to thrash and wrestle free. She tries to kick; liquid fire sears all the way to her spine, sawing through tissue like a rusted serrated knife cutting through rope.

Muted voices bleed into her world; all complete jargon, indistinguishable from a totally different language. Another anomaly. Her implants should be synced and translating.

Understanding who the fuck she's cursing is the least of her priorities, though.

Every breath is like chewing menthol and drinking ice-water, and her entire body convulses as soon as she feels a prick in her neck. For one blink, the world snap-focuses and is crystal clear; in the next, complete darkness, cycling back and forth. It's maddening, terrifying. She has no idea what's happening to her; no idea why she doesn't seem to actually be moving either, no matter how hard she screams at her body to do _something._

But she can hear everything around her.

She still can't understand the voices, can't discern how many distinctive footsteps there are. What if she can't move because she's frozen in some sort of stasis? What if the translator isn't 'working' because it doesn't yet have any data for whatever language her captors are speaking?

 _Translation: kett._

Her chest tightens, and she swears the stabbing in her ribs is not because of breathing. A needle threads into her elbow, pulling and pushing and twisting. Remy's body convulses again, but not of her own will. Something is forcing her to do this. Something unnatural.

A hook pierces her skin, a drill shrills into her hip. She can feel every single fucking cut and wrench as her insides are splayed out for display, rotten tape-worm intestines spilling out, bloody bony fragments lacerating soft tissue. A kett cuts off an end, twining and twirling it around it's wrist as it pulls and pulls and pulls out of her fucking stomach—and she can't do anything but feel and scream and beg inside her mind.

Jagged bone ends; her ribs cracked and fractured and pried apart. A wraith hops on her gurney and salivates over her, venomous drops falling into her open mouth and burning holes through the flesh of her cheeks, exposing her teeth. It's long tongue curls and traces the ridges of her windpipe, sinking it's teeth in and tugging, wrestling and snapping strings of sinew until it finally rips it out of her.

All she can do is hover outside her body, helplessly watching her own autopsy. Another kett makes an incision in her wrist, peeling the skin away as if it's a flap of leather, snipping her tendons one by one and studying how her fingers flop like a cut elastic. Her shoulder is jerked out of it's socket, a saw chewing through until it's severed with ruthless calm and precision.

Everything is taken away from her. Her rotten brain—what little is left—is preserved, brought and stuffed inside some sort of glass case. Foul-smelling fluid rapidly fills it. She's forced back inside her skull, no longer hovering outside her 'body'. She panics, struggles, breathes, gurgles, dead and dying again.

How can she drown if she's already dead? Is she truly dead? She doesn't feel anything anymore, but there's a constant noise buzzing in her ears.

Suddenly, everything is pitch-black. Quiet.

 _Calm._

Something touches her gently. Wisps of whispers surround her, embracing her, soothing her... Somehow.

 _Familiar?_

No.

 _Maybe?_

Partially.

 _But n_ _ot this part._

Thoughts are too far and few as they gradually slow, disconnecting, dispersing. Pressure slips over her hand and she squeezes it—tries and fails miserably, anyways—soldering to the strange sensation of silence now that the constant agony has disappeared. Somehow, even if she is alone, she doesn't _feel_ alone. There's a presence here. Somewhere.

Remy waits for the same sense of serenity she had before, secretly craving that feeling of safety, however false. It never comes. She squeezes her hand again, uncaring of what the pressure is, desperate to feel even the slightest shred of warmth.

...Because then it'd be proof that there's some part of her actually left, and not just a fractured brain caged in a fragile case.

-—-—-—-—-—-

 _Beep._

 _Beep._

 _Beep._

A stale sign of life. At least it's not a flat line.

Suvi holds on to the somber melody with high hopes, but low spirits. It's been days and Remedy is trapped in a coma, with brain activity showing strange readings—hypothesized to be due to both the concussion and underlying mental trauma from Kadara's stressful lifestyle. Lexi warned that the outcome may not be the one Suvi's desperately praying for. She glances over at Liam who's peacefully sleeping away on his plinth, recovering from surgery to repair a ruptured achilles and reset broken bones.

Suvi's heart sank when Sara threw a fit after learning it'd be a few months before he'd be able to bear weight and work towards regaining full function. Even now, there's nothing but bad news after bad news. At least they have one positive in this chaos: they rescued the two angaran children.

But how does Remedy fit into the equation?

Suvi brings up the message on her omni-tool, re-reading something she's already memorized off by heart. She chews her lip nervously every time she reaches the ending.

 _[Please do everything in your power to protect them.]_

Remedy wrote her message with the mindset of someone who's already accepted her death, but the reports... The explosions and damage done at the remnant site; that was not the mentality of a dead woman, comfortable in her grave. Suvi sighs as she disengages her omni-tool and scoots closer, taking off her glove. She grabs Remedy's cold hand, squeezing and gently massaging the engineer's calloused palm.

Curious, Suvi turns Remedy's hand up, tracing every vein and scar engraved in fair skin, studying broken nails and the bits of soil trapped in the grooves of scabs. These aren't the hands of an engineer, but someone who was forced to claw through the earth's muck to survive instead of to study.

"I can't even begin to imagine..." Suvi starts, looking around the med-bay to confirm she's alone—apart from Liam and his snoring, anyways. She hunches closer and brings Remedy's hand up to her mouth, breathing warmth into lifeless fingers. "Everything that you've been through..." she continues, closing her eyes. "You don't have to go through it alone anymore. The Pathfinder will make sure of that."

Can she? This entire time, Suvi's been shoving all her hopes on Sara's shoulders—just like everybody else, even with the knowledge that the pressure is starting to chip away at the young soldier's composure. Carrying the weight and fate of the entire Initiative without a lick of training? Suvi would buckle and seek out an escape too, if only to retain the illusion of still possessing one's sanity.

Can they even pretend to have it anymore? There was probably something hiding in the waiver's fine-print, and they all lost it the moment they signed on a one-way trip.

She sighs dejectedly, reminding herself to breathe and rub the cold hand. She glances across, avoiding the missing legs, and stares at the bandaged hand. It provokes worry and curiosity as to what in the world this engineer has had to have done to end up like this—and if the story behind her cybernetics started in the Milky Way, or now in Andromeda.

From what Suvi's learned in her time, she recognizes a lot of this as makeshift work. Not like there were tools and technology to get _proper_ prosthetics after people were exiled, but to learn how to use them—walk with them—would take **far** more time than Liam recovering from his own injury.

And that's just one foot.

There wouldn't have been time or an environment for that sort of steep learning curve; so how did Remedy get cleared? It may not have been politically correct to decline her, but there are always ways to deliver the same outcome even without giving away the implicating reason. How could Remedy take such a daring dive herself with so many unknowns of her safety? There are so many things to learn, but... With how things are going right now...

Suvi idly worries her lip. This reminds her of her initial excitement upon waking in the cryo-bay, only to be dreadfully disappointed and horrified by how ruthless reality can be. She bows her head as she rests her elbows on the edge of Remedy's plinth, always holding the engineer's hand by her mouth _._

Hopefully Remedy feels this _somewhere,_ somehow.

Doors slide open, and the telling sigh makes Suvi's stomach twist. She carefully rests Remedy's hand on her stomach. "I'm sorry, Pathfinder. I'll return to my sta—"

"It's alright, you're good. Take it easy and relax; you're helping give Lexi a break with your eyes in here, and SAM's got the essentials covered."

Heavy clunky footsteps make over, and Suvi worries her lip when she sees Sara fully decked out in dirty gear; she's already gone out and come back, and Suvi wasn't aware of anything at all. So much for not being distracted from their mission.

Headphones swing in Sara's hand, who's strained smile screams nervousness. "I know she's got a concussion, and I don't think she can hear us, but..." Sara rounds around the table, carefully putting the headphones on Remedy. "Maybe even at low volume, the music will help somehow? Mind running the idea by Lexi when she comes back?"

Suvi gapes, mindful not to let her jaw grow slack. She blinks away the tears before they have a chance to pool and chuckles, nodding. "Of course, Pathfinder, thank—"

Remedy's hand flops up and hits the headphones off.

Sara's shoulders deflate dejectedly. "Well there goes that..." she mumbles sullenly, cradling her headphones. "Guess she doesn't want music. I'll give it to Liam, then."

Suvi stares at Remedy's hand, then the brainwave monitor. It clicks. Suvi's chair hits the ground when she rushes out the med-bay. " _Lexi!_ "

-—-—-—-—-—-

Sara falls on her bed, muffling her groan in her pillow. Today was full of shit she doesn't understand—and full of shit in general. First Aya can't take the kids, and now the exile they rescued is somehow kinda-sorta-not really-awake. At least Lexi understands what's happening, but Sara got the sense that it still wasn't a good thing for Remedy to be 'awake'. She _can_ ask SAM, but her brain's buzzing with enough bullshit—and sleep is long overdue.

 _"Pathfinder, Peebee is requesting to enter."_

"Sure," Sara mutters into her pillow, waving her hand dismissively. "And enable privacy mode." She's too tired to even roll on her back, waving backwards when she hears the door slide open, smiling when light steps bounce towards her way. "Hi. I promise I'm excited to see you, even if I can't actually see you."

"I'm sure I can change that." Peebee's melodic chuckles skip in the air. The mattress sinks, and weight sits on the back of Sara's thighs. Confident hands hook on her shoulders, kneading sore muscles. She groans in appreciation and melts on the bed, closing her eyes as she drifts, letting Peebee take the reins. Playful fingers sneak under Sara's shirt and slowly roll it up, exposing her back to the cool air. Goosebumps chase the nail skimming the ridges of her spine.

"Feels good," Sara sighs, turning her head and twisting a little to look at Peebee. Tingles burrow in the pits of her belly at the sight of the assertive asari sitting so casually, treating this like no big deal. Sara grins when Peebee's hands crawl up, leaning down to shower chaste kisses from Sara's nape to the shell of her ear.

"I know something that'll make you feel better~" Peebee sing-songs, smiling roguishly. "Then my turn after; you owe me after dumping me where there's no remnant."

"I'll make it up to ya, but..." Sara forces herself up on her elbows, twisting as far as she's able to without rolling Peebee off. "Don't mean this in an offensive way, but can we sleep instead? I haven't gotten anything since the rescue mission." She inches her hips over until she successfully rolls on her back, reaching out until Peebee links their fingers together. The disappointment is obvious, but Peebee shrugs. She starts to pull away. Sara doesn't let her. " _We,_ not me."

Peebee frowns. That too is obvious why, but Sara plays stupid. "Just think of my comfy bed, waking up to a warm, naked girl after a long, _long_ night..."

"Uh huh. And where is this naked girl?" Peebee quips, her hands slipping away from Sara's, gliding and playing with the belt buckle. Peebee's eyes drop, but the mischievous spark in them is gone. Her lips press thin. "Ryder..." Still with the last name, the distance. "This is getting—"

"Too serious?" Sara finishes, if only to lessen the blow from Peebee's blunt choice of words.

It doesn't lessen the sting any bit when she nods.

"No strings attached, promise." Sara lies, desperate to keep just a _piece_ of the package. "Spend tonight here; it's not a commitment trap or anything like that." She smirks wickedly, running her hands up the asari's waist, disappearing under the jacket. "I was just thinking of my comfy bed, waking up to a warm, naked girl after a long, _long_ night..."

Peebee mirrors her smirk. "You sneaky little shit."

"I aim to please." Sara shrugs nonchalantly. Lips crash over hers, and she laughs in the kiss. A gasp is drawn from her when Peebee dips and nips her pulse.

"Good." Peebee husks, undoing their belts. "You better not miss."

-—-—-—-—-—-

Blood trails behind her as she crawls, tears rolling down her face just at the constant sight of the boots walking alongside in her peripheral vision. She's going to die here and she knows it. Every breath is agonizing and sticky, wheezing with a slight whine. She knows this sound—heard it hundreds of times. A shot to the lung. Pathetic; she's survived centuries, only to be taken down by a whelp.

Haunting laughter echoes in this pitifully small room. She drags herself to the wall, not knowing why she'd put herself through this pain anyways. Just because she hasn't been killed yet, doesn't mean she won't be. She knows she's just a mere plaything now. She knows, because she's done it herself hundreds of times.

Karma's a bitch.

Dipping a finger in her own blood, she reaches for the wall, crying pathetically, writing sloppily.

" _Help... Me... Plea_ —"

The boot slams down, crushing her wrist. Her scream burns her lungs until it dies suddenly.

She wishes it could be her already.

Every part of her trembles when she sees more in the corner of her eyes as her killer kneels, running a disgustingly loving hand along her crest. She tries to flinch away, yelping when harsh fingers forcefully dig into the folds of her neck. Sharp pain shoots down her spine, igniting her nerves with a vengeful fire, begging to fight back. She can't. Her biotics are too weak to do anything; they refuse to manifest.

A gun barrel jams against her cheek, twisting until it chafes her skin raw. Breaths patter over the sensitive cartilage of her ear canal.

"Time to see how rotten you are."


	7. Chapter 7

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: Thanks for taking precious time to review and leave gifts for me! As for the history with the cybernetics, it'll be some time before Remy opens up about herself. There were a lot of unknowns about her for a long time, even in the original story; and there will be more unknowns to tackle in this story too. It'll all come in due time though, promise! Hope everybody continues to enjoy :)

* * *

Lexi watches over her comatose patient with keen interest, quadruple checking every single reading on the monitors and reading what SAM's uncovered of the exile's past. Many implants are not recorded, or at least not divulged in any waivers—apart from prosthetic legs that are no longer in possession to study.

Combing over the data has—reluctantly admittedly—shed a light on a more compassionate perspective for exiles that Lexi would otherwise not have. This woman isn't a soldier; just an engineer and settler like any other, who did whatever it took to survive. That much is made clear with the extent of her injuries.

"Some residue indicating use of a weapon of some sort..." Lexi mutters as she goes over all diagnostic reports over the exile's hand, walking over to her 'unconscious' patient—or _should_ be unconscious. What she has yet to figure out is why Remedy is awake, though unresponsive; for now. Hopefully once Dr. Anwar returns, she'll have found a method to test their hypothesis if the exile is truly able to hear them, and influence brain activity as a result.

Regardless, the monitor displaying brainwaves show that delta waves indicate the exile is in deep sleep, but beta waves are abnormally active too. At this rate, she'll never properly recover from her concussion.

How she's still been functional—or trying to be—with one is beyond Lexi, but the circumstances on Kadara have made it clear that rest is not an option.

Lexi sighs as she glances over her shoulder at her other reckless patient. There are going to be a lot of long nights in store for her, and most of them are going to be spent trying to keep a restless man in bed. She hesitantly makes way for Liam, massaging her forehead when just the dreadful thought of his impending complaints is enough to give her a headache.

At least Remedy is asleep, sort of—in a position where she can't argue with doctor's orders, more like.

"I deserve a raise." Lexi mutters under her breath, initiating another scan on Liam. There's still time before his anesthesia wears off.

" _Mmngh..._ "

...Scratch that. It's already wearing off. She should have known this, with how often Liam visits the med-bay.

Lexi pinches her nose bridge, bracing herself for her very first long night as she opens the medication cabinet.

And stares at a wine glass.

"I deserve that too." she mumbles despondently, resigning to prepping syringes instead.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Go to hell."

 _"We're already there, whelp."_

Sa'mosa got shot. Why wouldn't a commando like her have her barrier up? She never fought back when the raiders kicked her.

 _"After what I've seen today, I'm giving it one week before she turns out to be the worst of us all."_

Remy has always been the worst of them all. She's just better at hiding it, unlike that goddamn _ass_ ari.

 _"No reason why we can't do business and still be civil. I'm sending you my frequency."_

How did Sa'mosa have Remy's frequency in the first place?

 _"The boss ain't payin' ya to sit on your ass."_

Reyes never contacted Remy about any jobs, period. He seemed generally confused when she demanded an explanation after her first 'job' too. So why did he introduce and pair her with Sa'mosa? What were they supposed to do when the flares went off? If that flare was actually from him anyways, since Sa'mosa is the one that supposedly communicated with him. Why is Remy paranoid about all of this _now_ though? She's making a big deal over nothing; maybe she's being steered into thinking this way.

Memories play over and over again, trapped in a loop. Another kett tactic. She refuses to break, refuses to give in to their demands whenever it seems as though they're speaking to her. At least they gave her body back, but it's probably to trick her into thinking they're the good guys, to get her talking. What do they want though? The angaran kids?

No. She can't give them up. Not until she atones for what she's done.

Remy looks around the blurry plains, too fuzzy to discern anything specific. There's always voices. One of them is familiar and warm and is present more often than the others, but... She can't trust it. Kadara's toxic water is always the first image to pop into mind whenever she hears it; and it knows her name. That's the definition of _suspicious._

...But she can't help but listen—or try to, anyways. Sometimes she can make out the words, or rather, recognizes what's being repeated. The dialect still sounds like jargon and the syntax is hard to grasp, but she hears common ground. _Somewhere._ It's changing all the time; something definitely sounds familiar though.

Suddenly, a piece changes for another, and the puzzle finally falls together.

 _"Hallo. Ik ben het, Suvi."_

Remy jolts.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Suvi, that did it!" Lexi hastily records the data on her omni-tool as she turns the monitor to Suvi. "Gamma and Beta waves spiked, she's responding to you."

"So then maybe her implants aren't synced if the translator hasn't been working autonomously?" Suvi scans the datapad of basic Dutch phrases, somewhat puzzled. From what she remembers, Remedy's file never indicated that she was born or ever traveled to the Netherlands. Was Dutch taught within the family, or in the programs she took in university? She studied mechanical engineering in _Indonesia,_ so the likelihood that Dutch would be offered is likely nonexistent.

"But all her cerebral implants show they're active, and all my tests have green-lighted them." Lexi's brow furrows as she checks the other monitors. "Maybe the prosthetics in her legs had something to do with the programming; didn't you say they were of Seraphtech design?"

"And they had VI that she could customize to her needs, but with that gone, everything else has gone haywire..." Suvi frowns thoughtfully, staring blankly at her datapad. "So perhaps Dutch isn't even a language she actually understands, but the other implants have factory defaulted to it?"

"Great, as if her brain isn't suffering enough trauma." Lexi sighs. "We'll need Gil to take a look at what he can do for her when he has the chance." She heads over to Liam, scanning him and administering another dose of painkillers.

For some reason, even with Remedy's newfound revelation... Something feels amiss. Suvi's mind won't stop wandering, _warning_ _,_ solving; but what is it trying to solve? She plays on her datapad, letting whim guide her hands as she pulls up the recorded feed of the Pathfinder team's cameras. She pauses at the first sight of a damaged construct closest to the engineer.

"What if it's not the legs?" she asks aloud, peering up at Lexi. "I've studied cybernetics before. Their VIs aren't multi-functional in the sense that they possess or affect sync control of other implants, even if the user tries to modify it. It's configured and designed to respond to the user's nervous system only; there are safeguards and restrictions in place to ensure the prosthetics would never be able to be hacked and controlled by someone else."

"So what are you suggesting? If it's not the legs, then what else could it be?" Lexi walks over and looks over Suvi's shoulder, who points at the turret and resumes the video again. Lexi hums. "She was already unconscious, so it's hard to tell when these malfunctions happened..."

"But if she was able to _build_ that and engage in a battle with remnant without her legs—" Suvi reverses all the way back to when the Pathfinder team ran into Remedy's asari 'friend', who gleefully carried the prosthetics and sassed Sara fearlessly.

"Look at her body language," Lexi murmurs, shaking her head. "She's putting up a textbook front; but every time she looks back at the monolith... It's clear she's worried. Those two planned a fake death and delivered it cleverly, though disturbing. So... Somebody wants Ms. Kedar dead."

That much was made clear in Remedy's private message to Suvi. "Who, though? And why?"

"Well, it's Kadara." Lexi gives a defeated shrug. "From what I've heard, this isn't exactly uncommon, unfortunately. In any case, we still need Gil to find out what's causing these malfunctions and take care of her before we try to speculate. Maybe she'll be willing to give us answers once she's fully conscious?"

Suvi bites her tongue before she blurts: _"highly unlikely."_ She may not know Remedy, but their first impression wasn't exactly stellar; definitely an eye-opener though. Suvi absent-mindlessly stares at the engineer, setting the datapad on the plinth to grab Remedy's hand again. It's still frigid. Lifeless. She hears Lexi saying something, but doesn't listen; not intentionally ignoring, of course, but—

A firm hand falls on Suvi's shoulder. She looks over, straining a sheepish smile in hopes to alleviate the stern scolding look Lexi is giving her. "Sitting and staring at her isn't going to make her wake up faster—if she will wake up."

 **If.**

There's still no guarantee, even with all this technology. It's almost shameful.

"You need to get some rest, Suvi."

Before Suvi can protest, Lexi's already tugging her up and pushing her out the med-bay. The doors are locked behind her before her brain has a chance to catch up. She turns around, dumbfounded and slack-jawed that she'd been kicked out _so damn easily,_ just like that. How in the world does Lexi expect her to sleep when she's worried about Remedy? Suvi shouldn't be sleeping. She should be in there, waiting, making sure that someone will be there and the engineer won't be alone in what's undoubtedly going to be a rude, terrifying, and confusing wake up call.

But she can't afford to be distracted anymore, or to pull another all-nighter just to listen to the monitor beep.

Suvi reluctantly heads to the crew quarters even though she _knows_ she'll be up all night.

...Wishing she could listen to the monitor beep.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Quietly, Peebee abuses her biotics to peel the blanket away and slither out of bed, all without rousing Ryder. Peebee constantly steals glances over her shoulder to ensure she isn't being watched, trying to ignore the building guilt tugging at her heartstrings.

There aren't supposed to be _any_ strings, dammit...

She bites her tongue before a sigh tumbles out of her, neglecting underwear in hopes to put on the essentials and get out of here _now._ She forces herself not to take another look behind as she makes a hasty exit, freezing momentarily when she spots Suvi leaving the med-bay. Peebee takes a sharp turn for the ladders before she's—

"Peebee?"

" _Well, shit._ " Peebee mutters under her breath, awkwardly bunching up her underwear and stuffing it in the backpocket of her pants—and failing miserably, but modesty isn't exactly on her list of priorities anyways. She salutes casually when Suvi walks over to her. "Heya Suvi. How's your pirate buddy doing?"

"Pirate?" Suvi blinks, seemingly confused; then her lips part softly, a look of realization dawning in a quiet: " _oh._ You mean Remedy?"

Riiiight... That was her name.

Did her parents hate her or something?

Suvi steals a look over her shoulder. Maybe she's running away, like Peebee? Probably not, but it's enough to appease the guilt just a touch. The frown that suddenly sweeps Suvi's face screams that another kind of guilt will torment Peebee soon, though. "Remedy isn't a pirate. She's an engineer interested in technology, like you."

"Like me?" Peebee chuckles, waving dismissively. "Total opposite. From what I saw in those videos, your pirate hates remnant enough to take them down with her and make fireworks outta them. She's an exile, and she's probably no different than all the other exiles I've shot." She abruptly turns for the ladder and starts climbing, _selectively_ oblivious to the blatant disapproval that flashes across Suvi's eyes.

There's already enough shit to deal with—without adding Suvi's hurt feelings to the mix.

Guilt finds a way to worm in. Peebee sighs when she hits the top; she can't muster the courage to look back down though. "Uh, yeah, might've gone too far. Sorry."

And...

Nothing.

Peebee steals a quick peek, catching Suvi disappear into the crew quarters. Did she even hear? Probably not. _Great._ _.._ As if there's not enough dysfunction to give Ryder a headache. Peebee groans at the thought and slinks back to her room, determined to ignore her heartache; determined to resist the temptation of escaping this place too.

Maybe it would be best for the Tempest if she did?

-—-—-—-—-—-

Pounding pulse. Shallow breaths. Cautious steps.

 _She's imagining things,_ she tells herself, but she knows she heard footsteps in the kitchen. The floorboard groans beside the stove.

Twice.

Remedy freezes, her breath trapped in her lungs. She strains to hear. Nothing. Her heart is pounding too harshly, and the breaths forcing out her nose are harsh and quick. Fear knots her stomach as cold sweat trickles down her neck, gluing her shirt to her back.

It's tempting to call out and ask if it's her girlfriend, but she knows Sophie is on a mission to surf at all of Indonesia's heavenly beaches. She _knows._

Someone is in the house.

Creeping into the kitchen, she finds it empty and dark. She blindly slides her hand along the wall until she hits the light switch, analyzing everything to prove to _herself_ that nothing is amiss... But her heart refuses to settle. Her mind keeps screaming at her: _get a weapon!_ It's almost pitiful how much her hands shake when she grabs a dirty knife out the sink. Then she looks down and pales. "A _fucking butter knife,_ what the hell is that gonna do? Poke and tickle them to death?" she groans, stalking to the knife block as quietly as she possibly can.

Creaks shoot out.

Remedy's eyes widen and her head snaps up, catching a reflection in the window above the sink. A cry breaks from her lips as she whips around, Fucking Butter Knife swinging.

But... Nothing. No one. Her blood rushes to her ears, her pulse roaring, confusion wracking her muddled mind. She glances over her shoulder at the window again. Her entire body caves and her head hangs in shame, a wry chuckle whooshing out with the breath she didn't realize she held. The reflection is just **her.**

"Idiot..." she scoffs, shaking her head as she turns around to put the butter knife back in the sink. "I _am_ imagining thi—"

Arms lock around her waist.

Remy screams.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Supraventricular tachycardia," Lexi mutters to herself as she hastily works on the exile, slipping a finger over Remedy's palm, finding it abnormally cold and clammy. Lexi looks up at the electrocardiogram, analyzing every single line to ensure she isn't glossing over even the subtlest change that may indicate a critical condition.

"180 bpm, administering beta blockers." Lexi heads over to the console to authorize the medication to flow through the IV, watching over Remedy carefully as the exile continues to cry out; out of pain? No. If she weren't _technically_ conscious, Lexi would consider these heart palpitations as an afib rather than a panic attack.

But how is she supposed to calm her patient without injecting and combining more medication? Too much of everything will overwhelm the body—maybe even the mind.

Lexi glances over her shoulder when the doors slide open, revealing a harried woman. Lexi clicks her tongue off the roof of her mouth. "Suvi, you need—"

" **To be here.** " Suvi interjects sternly, but it still shakes. Her bravado melts way to worry as she rushes to Remedy's side. "Is she okay? I heard her scream."

"She's okay, physically. Don't pay attention to the heart monitor; palpitations can share the same symptoms as a panic attack, which she's having." Lexi walks back to the heart monitor, gaze flickering between that and the brainwave charts and Remedy and Suvi and—Goddess, why is everybody on this ship determined _not_ to take care of themselves?

"A panic attack?" Suvi's eyebrows furrow, and she immediately pulls a chair over by the plinth, picking up and holding Remedy's hand.

Lexi watches the readings as they gradually calm. The medication kicks in intriguingly fast with this one, it seems. Fast metabolism? Perhaps she receives drugs so often, that her liver overproduces enzymes... But none of the full-body tests she's run have indicated an inflamed or injured liver; so if it's a temporary increase rather than a chronic condition, then that's a good si—

Her eyes gloss over Suvi, breathing into Remedy's hand. The readings on the monitor dip momentarily. Lexi inwardly rolls eyes at herself. _Of course._ The answer is so plainly obvious, sitting right beside her. As beneficial as it is for her patient, it isn't for her determined-to-be-next-patient.

"Suvi, you're going to worry yourself to literal sickness if this keeps up." Lexi starts softly, resting a gentle hand on her colleague's shoulder. "Did you even get to nap?"

Suvi tenses. The brief silence screams the _real_ answer. "...Yes."

"No." Lexi squeezes firmly and pulls to try and get her stubborn colleague out the chair. Suvi resists; and here Lexi thought that out of all crewmates, Suvi would be the most willing to listen to doctor's orders. "This isn't a request. You **need** to get some sleep." There's going to be a ship-wide prescription for that soon. "I'm watching over her, Suvi. Nothing is going to happen under my watch."

"This did," Suvi mumbles sheepishly, massaging Remedy's hand. "I'm not an expert at this, Lexi, but even I noticed that she calmed down as soon as I started to hold her hand. She must be able to feel something if she can hear us. This has to be helping her somehow, right?"

"Okay, okay. I'll hold her hand," Lexi sighs. The things she has to do just to ensure the well-being of this entire crew... Yeah. She definitely deserves a raise.

"Not fair..." A groggy voice pipes up from the other end of the room. Liam smiles sleepily, wiggling his fingers. "Who's gonna hold my hand?"

Scratch that.

Lexi definitely deserves that glass of wine.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Folding her hands behind her head, Sara stares—glares—at her ceiling. How long has she been doing this? Who knows.

Whenever Peebee left, anyways. She has yet to find out how light a sleeper Sara is.

Apparently it's too much to ask for her to stay even _half_ a freaking night. Sure, commitment issues because of a jackass in the past, Sara understands that. It doesn't make it any less frustrating when she's desperately trying to build a bridge with a woman who refuses to build one on her end. Eventually it'll be completed, but how long will it take until they're _finally_ on the same page?

They're not even on the same fucking floor right now.

Sometimes she can't help but feel like they never will be. They're just friends with benefits, nothing more or less.

Sara groans, rolling on her side as she reaches for her headphones and slides them on. She cycles through the playlists on her omni-tool until she hits an encrypted one, unlocking it with a password.

 _Ellen Harlow._

Moments later, a painfully familiar piano plays softly. Sara closes her eyes and relaxes, smiling sadly, hands up in the air as she imagines playing beside mom. If only that piano was allowed to be brought to Andromeda; she'd finally possess something _tangible_ that carried something ethereal with it, and not just a recording. She'd have more than the ghost of a memory.

Just like the ghost in her bed.

Sara bites her tongue hard enough to wince in pain, burying her face in her pillow as she tries to think of everything _but_ Peebee.

This relationship—if it can even be called that—is never going to go anywhere. They're only going to keep hurting if they keep stalling. At least, Sara will be the one hurting; who the hell knows what Peebee feels anymore? She's growing distant even with the distance she's wedged between them. It's a recipe for disaster, and as much as Sara _despises_ acknowledging and admitting it... It's distracting them from their mission. She can't run away from responsibility no matter how hard she tries _._

It's chained to her fucking ankles.

Curling into a ball, Sara hugs her pillow. She's supposed to be hugging somebody else; somebody she wishes were here, somebody she needs. What's it going to look like when she's actually hurting, physically and _mentally,_ instead of just listening to something that hurts emotionally, making her miss her mom?

Peebee would likely say Sara's being a masochist like this; would likely tease her and tell her to 'stop hitting herself'.

Yeah. This, whatever _this_ is between them, needs to end.

Sara shuts off the music and rolls out of bed before her brain has a chance to catch up, wrestling clothes on before she marches out the door, climbing up the ladder as quickly as possible. Every time she has these thoughts to break up, she talks herself off the ledge—gets scared of hurting feelings when feelings are already hurt.

But she'll hear what Peebee has to say first, right?

Maybe things don't need to be broken and severed. Maybe there will be a change of heart. Maybe—

The door to Peebee's room opens. It's empty. A sense of dread wraps around Sara's heart; numb, she looks up at the ceiling. "SAM, is Peebee on the Tempest anymore?"

 _Anymore._

It seems instinct already knows the answer.

 _"No, Pathfinder. She is on Aya with Jaal."_

"With Jaal? Odd." Not really, if it's expected this time. Sara walks to the bridge, grateful both Suvi and Kallo aren't here. "Can you ping their exact location?"

 _"They are in the marketplace, Pathfinder."_

"What?" Her forehead knits in confusion. "Why?" She somehow feels like she knows that answer to this too, but it's on the tip of her tongue; soon, the bottom of her stomach.

 _"They are trying to find a home for the angaran children."_

"...Fuck. We already tried. What do they think this is going to accomplish? Jaal knows Aya's refusing them because they're from Kadara."

 _"And under the care of an exile."_

"Yeah." Sara crosses her arms, trying to keep her frustration contained. Scorn spills freely anyways. "Evfra's an idiot for thinking they're dangerous because of that."

Innocent kids already labeled as _traitors_.

Guess it's not different from what happened to her in the Milky Way, after dad's AI research was exposed. He torpedoed her career and never apologized, never even showed any fucking remorse; why would he? He never showed up at any of her graduations either, or the day she was commissioned as a peace officer. Bitter venom collects with each memory that rolls by, no matter how old. She thought she buried these feelings six feet under with dad. To this day, she's still mystified as to why he sacrificed himself for her. Now isn't the time to solve mysteries—and resolve daddy issues—though.

"Well, time to bring them back before they bring a shitstorm back with 'em." Sara sighs dejectedly, chewing and swallowing her anger over such an unreasonable 'reason'. She pushes off from the panel and leaves the bridge, making haste for the cargo bay. She can't help but wonder who's idea it was to embark on this fruitless endeavor.

And instinct wonders what else Peebee is hiding in her sleeve.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's note: I'm refraining from the meld because I like to treat it as an intimate act, and the melders subconsciously form an intimate bond thereafter. Remy is also suffering from a concussion, among other injuries; Sa'mosa showed it's debilitating to meld under such conditions. Even if it sounds selfish, medical personnel have to protect themselves since they're the last line of defense. Hope that clears up any mysteries as to why Lexi isn't melding with her patients (because the same could go for Liam). Thanks again for the review and hope everybody continues to enjoy!

* * *

Waves drowsily lap at the shore. Remedy takes in the tranquil scene as she basks in the sunrise, closing her eyes and tuning into the breeze.

She wishes she could surf again. She wishes she could feel the sand just one more time. She feels at peace that she can't; abnormally so. She's at a place that was her greatest pleasure, and is now her worst nightmare... And yet she's calm.

Warm tingles burrow in only one of her hands. Not good. She needs to go back to the doctor to get that checked out.

...After the sun rises, though.

It's not like her condition will change. And if it does, and if it's for the worst, then it can't be any worse than she already is right now. There's no rush. Who cares, anyways? She doesn't. Remedy's head lulls back and she gazes at the clouds, frowning at some of the strange shapes they're taking. _Again._ There's a sense that something is wrong and she can never shake it off; a feeling that used to be there, and is pretending to be there, but it's not. She was warned of this.

She looks down at herself.

At what's left.

At her wheelchair.

At her feet, _wiggling_ toes that aren't there.

Remy groans when the warmth buzzing in her hand turns into squeezing pressure; maybe it's some more weird nerve shit. She really should go back to the doctor.

...After the sun sets, though.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Suvi props her elbow on the plinth as she rests her cheek against the back of Remedy's hand, struggling to stay awake. She pulls her datapad over, scrolling through Dutch phrases as she contemplates on talking to Remedy. It could help recovery, couldn't it? It'd prevent another panic attack from wherever the engineer is panicking 'from'.

"Suvi..." Lexi warns from her console, giving a worried look. "If you do this to the point of exhaustion, what's going to happen when the Pathfinder requests for you to return to work? What's going to happen if the exile—"

"Her name is Remedy," Suvi interjects irritably, hiding her remorseful frown in the engineer's hand. She caves when Lexi sighs. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap."

"Understandable, and it proves my point." Lexi walks over, softly squeezing Suvi's shoulder. "You're easily irritable now, and you're _never_ irritable." Lexi gently pries Remedy's hand from Suvi's grip. "You can't keep this up forever. We don't know how long it will take until she regains consciousness."

"But if she can hear us—"

"She can't _choose_ to wake up; there's a good chance she's unaware she's even sleeping, just like how we are unaware we are in a dream. We don't know what she's seeing or hearing either. There are a lot of precautions I need to take and a lot of signs to watch out for. Even a minor change can turn into a major complication in seconds, and I can't be on the lookout for her if I'm looking after _you_ instead." Lexi hooks under Suvi's arm, pulling her out her chair. Suvi just barely resists, but she's too tired to lock the brakes in place.

Guilt needles it's way into her when she willingly stands up. She doesn't look at Lexi in the eye, doesn't look at the person she's _abandoning_ in their moment of need.

"'Ey, it'll be alright, Suvi." A new voice slurs lazily. She looks up at the source, smiling weakly. Liam. "I'll watch over her. Still got two good arms, yeah?" He engages his omni-tool, fumbling, concentrating. Lexi takes a deep breath as she walks over, trying to encourage him to rest by pushing his wrists down. He shoots a cheeky smirk at her. "Jeez, doc. Wait 'til I get the camera going here."

"Camera?" Suvi asks, tilting her head in confusion. The implants in her fingers buzz and she brings up her omni-tool. Liam's pinged her. She opens the message, staring blankly when she sees herself, her sleep-addled brain working furiously to try to put the puzzle piece together. The live feed shakes when Liam laughs.

"Yeah, y'definitely needa get some sleep in ya, Suvi. At least you have front row seats now, even if you won't be here. Can check on her any time now."

"Front row seats?" Suvi still isn't quite sure where he's going with this. Then the feed pans to Remedy. It clicks. "Oh, Liam..."

"Dunno how exciting it is to watch someone sleep," he shrugs nonchalantly. "I'll try to keep my arm up so you can always see her; can't guarantee you won't get a video full of pillows every now and then. Just, uh..." He gives Lexi a nervous look. "Come rescue me if it starts shaking a lot, 'cause that prolly means the doc's choking me, yeah?"

"Why give myself away? I have medication that can put you to _permanent_ sleep," Lexi quips wryly.

Suvi chuckles at the exasperated look on Liam's face. She doesn't bother holding back as she strides to him, hunching over and giving him a hug—albeit awkwardly. She closes her eyes when she feels tears prick them, struggling to remain professional as emotion overwhelms her from the simple gesture. " _Thank you._ "

"Anythin' for ya, Suvs." He pats her back, returning the hug with firm force. It's comforting in more ways than one. "You got me out that rubble, it's the least I can do."

Suvi pulls away, puzzled by his statement. "But I didn't...?"

Liam grins. "You kept me calm."

 _What?_

Now he isn't making any sense. Does he remember what actually happened? He kept _her_ calm.

She stares blankly, utterly lost. "But... I didn't...?"

He laughs, looking at Lexi. "I think I broke her, doc."

"Agreed. All the more reason for her to go and sleep." Lexi injects sternly, guiding and pushing Suvi out the med-bay without giving her a chance to ask Liam what he means. When she turns around, Lexi crosses her arms and gives the crew quarters a pointed look. "Sleep."

"But—"

"Sleep."

"But I ju—"

"Doctor Suvi Anwar, if you do not turn around and go sleep in the next five seconds, I'll medically-induce _you_ instead; and I'll keep you under even if Remedy wakes up."

No thought, no doubt, no argument. Nothing more needs to be said. Suvi's already gone at the mention of medication; she doesn't intend to find out how trigger-happy Lexi is with drugs. She's already seen it all with Liam—hopefully if he gets himself knocked out, he'll still have the camera pointing at Remedy.

Suvi brings up her omni-tool's feed as she slides under her sheets and lies on her side, ensuring she always has the screen right there. She never closes her eyes for more than a second. She watches, and watches, and watches, and her eyes close, and—

 _Gone._

-—-—-—-—-—-

"What the hell do you two think you're doing?" Sara seethes as she marches to Peebee and Jaal, grabbing Peebee's arm first, who jerks away and shoots a heated glare. It only ignites the sparks burning inside Sara. "You already _know_ where Aya stands; keep this up, and Evfra will make sure we never step foot in this city." She looks at Jaal, holding back just a touch when the shy children hide behind him. "You—of all people—should know that, Jaal."

"Only Evfra said no," Jaal counters calmly, "but he did not ask all the families."

"He didn't have to if—"

"They do not have to stay on Aya." Jaal stands his ground, smiling when Sara stops, mouth agape. Her brows furrow in confusion.

"I heard you earlier; why are you asking people _on Aya_ if the kids can stay _with them?_ I don't understand."

"Not all family members live on Aya. This is just the fastest way to see what family still has room to adopt orphans. We get many of them, you see, because of the kett. It is not about security risks to these angara; it is not that they won't accept, but that they _can't._ The families are already too large and there are not enough mothers and elders to properly see to all the children."

Sara bristles under the heat burning into the side of her head. Peebee, no doubt. Sara doesn't dare look over, now ashamed for her brusque approach and hostility. At least Jaal doesn't seem to mind; maybe he's just writing it off as emotion, or passion, but honestly?

She's not _entirely_ here for the kids. She's mostly here for Peebee.

"Unfortunately... There's nobody here we can turn to for help." Jaal sighs, turning a little to embrace the timid children clinging to his thighs. "If you don't mind, Sara, I'd like to stop by Havarl and ask my mothers in person if they are willi—"

"I don't want to go."

Sara swallows thickly, her gaze fixated on Jaal. Both of them are likely thinking the same thing.

 _Oh, shit._

She looks down at the child who blurted that, kneeling to be eye-level as she smiles weakly. "I'm sorry, but it's too dangerous for you to stay with us."

" _Yalaon?_ " The other child whispers, but it doesn't translate. Sara gapes dumbly, utterly lost. It sinks in soon enough. "Where is she? I want to stay with yalaon."

"She's..." Jaal frowns, shaking his head.

Sara has a pretty good idea who the child is asking about, has made it a point that they don't see the exile in med-bay. They don't need to be traumatized any more than they already are—especially if Jaal found out that they had witnessed how their parents _died._ The exile saved them. No way are they going to see the exile die too.

Jaal exchanges a hesitant look with Sara. She sighs as she rakes a hand through her bangs, rising as she averts her gaze to Peebee. For a brief moment, there's sympathy. Then understanding... Then anger. Peebee already knows what's coming; and she's not sticking around. Of course. Why would she?

"Leaving me to the wolves?" Sara asks, grateful the idiom is lost on the angarans. She crosses her arms and scoffs when Peebee doesn't stop, disappearing in the crowd. Sara swallows the bile of venom burning in her lungs; there's no way she's letting this die just like that.

She _will_ get answers. She _will_ get closure.

Turning to the kids, Sara steels herself. Her eyes harden as Jaal tries to calm the restless children; his efforts are about to be for nothing. They haven't been vocal up until this point, and something tells her that's not going to stop. "You can't stay with her," Sara starts, but loses courage to look at the way their eyes turn dark—the way hope extinguishes, the smoke quietly smothered.

 _This is for the greater good,_ she tells herself. The life they led on Kadara was no life at all; especially with the exile who stole what little innocence they had left.

'Remedy' is poison. Everything SAM dug up on her is indicative of that.

"And you can't stay with her because we can't find her," Sara lies. "She ran away." Like Peebee, when needed most. "She's gone and she's not coming back." She closes her eyes when Jaal inhales sharply. She can _feel_ his disapproval burning in the back of her head. She clenches her fists and braces herself as tense silence screams, clinging to the mundane chatter surrounding them as clueless shoppers bustle about.

To her surprise, the children don't react. She looks over her shoulder. She wishes she hadn't. Both have brave faces. There are no tears. She wishes there were.

But there's _nothing_ in their empty eyes. In their reflection, she sees herself.

And she has the same eyes too.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Whiskey. The whiskey _she_ left behind.

Remedy wheels herself to the counter and takes it, sandwiching it between her hip and the wheelchair, cautiously making her way out back to the balcony to watch the sunset. She engages the wheelchair's locks and takes out the bottle, unscrewing the lid and turning the bottle up.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing, whelp? Pass that over."

Whiskey spews out her mouth and her heart soars to her throat. Remedy's head snaps to the left and a sharp pain shoots down her skull, growing into a dull headache behind one of her eyes. Confusion wracks her brain and a faraway name is on the tip of her tongue as she stares at a familiar asari—but still somehow a stranger—who's invaded her apartment.

"Who are you?" Remedy disengages her wheelchair's locks and starts to turn it with one arm, flinching when the asari slams her hands down on the arm rests. The glint in her pitch-black eyes is disturbing... But... Familiar too?

The asari grins as she nears, her face a breath away. "Whoever you want me to be, darling. I—"

She stops.

Her face contorts in agony and her head drops, groaning lowly. Remedy tosses the bottle over the balcony and grabs the wheels, hastily rolling backwards to get away, accidentally bumping into the railing. Fear curls around her lungs and crushes her from within, and she helplessly watches, trapped in her own home.

Again.

The asari grabs her head, slurring incoherently. Every word intensifies Remedy's headache, and she instinctively rubs above one of her—strangely—sore eyes. For some reason, an invisible force pushes her—abnormally—achy hand away. Everything she touches hurts. Everything she hears and sees and _smells_ hurts.

Panic bubbles in her throat, her tongue thickening and drying. Flashes of _something_ assault her too quickly to see what it even is. Colors? A finger? A gun?

Red?

Remedy gasps when burning pain burrows deep in her brain and drills above her eye. She doubles over her in her wheelchair, clutching her head as she howls in agony, begging for it to stop. _It never does._ Despair grips her when a painstakingly clear image burns bright before her eyes, and the faraway name slips off the tip of her tongue as she watches an asari standing over another, who's writing on a wall in blood.

Tears hit Remy at full force, and she chokes out a pathetic cry for help.

" _Stop... Her... Plea_ —"

A boot slams down, crushing her wrist. Her scream burns her lungs until it dies suddenly.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Gil, restrain her while I administer the medication." Lexi orders calmly, throwing a sharp glare for Liam to turn off his camera before the exile's screaming wakes up Suvi on her end. Lexi wastes no time injecting sedatives into the IV, watching the monitors—the brainwaves in particular. What they indicated a minute ago does not bode well for Remedy.

Gil pants tiredly as he tries to contain the thrashing, skeptically pulling back when the exile calms. "What the hell was that, doc? I didn't even crack the code to her VI yet."

Lexi gnaws on the edge of her tongue as she walks over to the exile, manually checking vitals and circulation to confirm the console's readings. The skin is flushing and rapidly heating up. If this keeps up, the brain will be fried from the inside out. Remedy will be trapped— _awake_ —in seizure after seizure until she eventually dies. The implication is troubling; more so that Lexi can do nothing to help her patient if she doesn't take action in the next minute.

"She's..." Lexi gropes for words, frowning. She closes her eyes when she hears the doors behind her slide open. "Suvi, you shouldn't be here." She sighs when a most stubborn woman takes the chair beside the exile, grabbing and holding her hand. Lexi looks over her shoulder, frowning at Liam, who shrugs innocently—and wisely turns as much as he can to face away.

"What's happening to her, Lexi?" Suvi slurs sleepily, worriedly. "All that yelling... It didn't sound like it was pain this time."

"It wasn't." Lexi braces herself as she tries to think of a way to deliver the news. There is no good way to deliver bad news. "It wasn't her yelling, either."

" _What?_ " Everybody asks in unison.

Lexi pinches the bridge of her nose and bites back a groan. "Remedy may be suspended in consciousness because she's been linked with an asari, and the meld wasn't terminated... Properly. Her brain activity shows evidence of that; she's exhibiting signs typical of what an asari experiences when they initiate and sustain a meld. All synapses are hyperactive and constantly rapid-firing without rest, refusing to shut off. A human brain is incapable of handling that level of activity and will hemorrhage if this continues."

"So what's happening to her? Long-range telepathy? Space magic?" Gil quips dryly, but the halfhearted joke falls through the cracks when nobody reacts.

"What does this mean, Lexi?" Suvi asks quietly, bringing the exile's hand up to her mouth to breathe into it. "Are you saying she's experiencing what the asari's experiencing?"

"Unfortunately, not only that. The trauma her brain's sustained—the concussion and eye injury... A lot of damage is irreversible, and it's going to get worse soon. I can sever the connection by freezing and killing the cells in the overactive area, but she _will_ lose function in the brain that will be damaged. We won't know how severe the loss will be until she wakes up." Lexi watches Suvi's back keenly, unable to bring herself to walk over and look at her colleague in the eye.

Suvi's shoulders slump in defeat. "And if you don't sever the connection? What will happen?"

"She..." Lexi swallows. There's no beating around the bush with this; but she can't very well sugarcoat it either. Not this. "She will experience seizures. It is highly likely she'll 'feel' them, but still remained paralyzed. Eventually her brain will burn from the inside out and she'll die." Lexi hesitantly approaches Suvi, squeezing her colleague's shoulder firmly. "I'm not asking for permission, Suvi; she needs surgery. _Now._ "

Gil exhales heavily, shifting awkwardly in his spot, a pleading question in his eyes. Lexi nods, not wanting to subject Suvi to more pressure than necessary. Gil leaves hastily, and Suvi's head hangs forward when the doors slide shut. Hopefully she's somehow forgotten that Liam's still in the room.

" _It's not fair,_ " Suvi whispers, a shaky breath tumbling out of her. "She's already been through so much..."

"Is death better?" Lexi asks bluntly, coming down stern. She needs to act now. Every second wasted is another second Remedy may die on this bed.

"No, of course not!" Suvi turns around, sheen eyes filled with determination. "I'm staying."

"Suvi—"

"I was there for Liam when he was under. Please, let me be here for her. I promised she wouldn't have to go through anything alone anymore. I **need** to be here for her."

Brain surgery isn't exactly the same as repairing a ligament tear. There's a drill. There's pieces of a skull hanging around. There's brain matter exposed.

...There's a chance the surgery itself will kill Remedy, or turn her into a shell of herself; an empty husk, breathing but not _living._

Lexi can't help but wonder why Suvi is _this_ attached to a woman she doesn't even know; a woman who was hostile and had even threatened her. There's been absolutely no bonding beyond a beeping monitor. A heart of gold can only go so far for strangers... But the desperation and fear in Suvi's eyes makes it abundantly—

 _"Dr. T'Perro, Ms. Kedar needs immediate medical attention."_ SAM's monotone voice fills the room, and within the same second, Remedy begins convulsing.

Without thought, Lexi reacts calmly and disengages the plinth's locks to roll it out further, preparing for surgery as she waits until the seizure is over. She can't afford to think of Suvi anymore. Lexi swiftly inputs the code and procedure for a craniotomy in the console; tools slide out of the dispenser and she sets to work, unlocking the clamp underneath the plinth and pulling it out, adjusting Remedy's head accordingly and fixating the three pins into her skull to hold her in place.

"SAM, administer mannitol in her IV to relax her brain and begin insertion of the lumbar drain; monitor cerebrospinal fluid levels and drain accordingly." Lexi takes out a razor and shaves just behind the hairline, preparing the skin with an antiseptic. She doesn't dare look over at Suvi, especially when she sees Liam foolishly—kindheartedly—clamber out of bed just in time to drag Suvi out the med-bay before she sees the drill.

But it's not seeing or hearing what goes on that worries Lexi most. It's the guilt, the knowledge, that somewhere...

Remedy and the connected asari feel _every bit of this.  
_

-—-—-—-—-—-

Sara takes the long way back; and by long way, she's walking _away_ from the Tempest until she decides to turn around. She doesn't bother looking for Peebee. There's more important things to sulk about than relationship issues; SAM made it—unintentionally—clear when he updated her on the exile's emergency, and what Lexi is about to do.

But now Sara has no idea what to do. Figures. What's new, right?

Sliding headphones on, she decrypts her go-to playlist and stuffs her hands in her pockets, listening to mom's piano as she soaks in Aya's sights. She's fortunate enough to stand here and see them, knowing that somewhere on the Tempest, there's a chance a young woman may never be able to see anything at all ever again.

Sara stops, raking her bangs back as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Right now, as cold as it sounds, the exile is the least of her problems. Her science officer is the priority here. Suvi hasn't been focused ever since this entire fiasco started in Kadara; it's highly likely she won't ever be if the outcome turns into a tragic one.

And it's Sara's fault.

One fucking decision ensured she fucked this all to hell. If only she never thought that enlisting the exiles was a good idea; because when have any of her decisions been a good idea, anyways? She's no leader. She has no authority, no confidence, no respect; not from anyone, and certainly not from herself.

Sometimes she can't help but wonder if she'll ever grow into the role of Pathfinder. Cora's already trained for it. She's practically calling half the shots—and they're the only good decisions that have been made since this entire clusterfuck started. Sara sighs and abruptly derails from that train of thought, turning around and beginning the walk back to the Tempest.

Maybe she's not a good leader, but she doesn't need to be one right now. She needs to be a friend. A shoulder. A pair of arms.

With that in mind, she picks up the pace and starts running, slipping off her headphones. Anxiety wells up in her chest; she hastily engages her omni-tool to distract herself and connects to the med-bay's comm-link, knowing fully well who's in that room.

"I'm on my way, Suvi!"

Sara rushes past Jaal—now abandoned with the kids for the second time—and pushes her way through the marketplace's crowd, sprinting to the Tempest like her own life depends on it. Someone's does. God willing, maybe her call to the lie to the kids will have turned out to be a good one. Or not. The exile better survive this bullshit. She better not be trying to one-up Sara in the dying business, either.

Charging up into the Tempest's cargo bay, she crashes into Gil and they tumble to the floor. "Sorry Gil!" She barely recovers in time and scrambles off her feet, waving apologetically, not even stopping to help him up. The first set of doors open to the hallway, and her stomach plummets at the sounds of heart-wrenching sobs. She rounds the corner and stops cold at the sight of Suvi burrowed in Liam's arms, crying in his chest. Sara frowns when she looks down at his foot; he's trying not to stand on it—and failing miserably. At least he has a cast.

Liam notices her when he looks up, straining an awkward smile. "Hey... Pathfinder... It's free hug day today, innit?"

Sara keeps an eye on him as she approaches, watching Suvi tense and fall silent. Her shoulders keep shaking. She's hiccuping, trying to wipe her face discreetly—and also failing miserably. Sara chuckles weakly, hoping to inject levity in a situation where none will be found. They have to create it.

"Oh yeah, free hug day! Almost forgot; I'm coming in for mine, brace yourselves. I've got a mean hug." She comes up from behind and embraces Suvi firmly, grinning mischievously when Liam squeezes from the front, the two sandwiching the poor woman trapped in the middle.

Suvi gasps from the force, then tenses, then melts...

"You're not alone, Suvi." Sara whispers, resting her forehead between Suvi's shoulder blades. "We're here for you just like how you're there for her."

...Then breaks down again.

" _But I'm not there._ "


	9. Chapter 9

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: We've hit our meat and potatoes! This chapter finally starts the slow burn between Remy & Suvi. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"You good to go back on your own, Liam?" Sara asks as she cradles Suvi in her arms, carrying the woman who's cried herself to sleep— _standing._

"Yeah, Pathfinder." He taps his forearm and engages his omni-tool, shutting off the live video feed. "Maybe I'll see if Lexi needs—"

" _You_ need to rest," Sara interjects sternly, frowning when Liam chuckles as he hobbles back to the med-bay. "You know she's going to tell you the same, right? Don't give my only medical officer a heart attack. That exile isn't Lexi's only patient; you're one too. Remember that."

"Yes mom," Liam drawls sarcastically.

Sara sticks out her tongue as she kneels to sneak an arm under Suvi's knees and lifts her comfortably, heading inside the Pathfinder's quarters. Suvi will make better use of that bed than Sara will. Maybe it's excessive comfort will be enough to keep the stubborn officer down for more than an hour, for once. Sara sighs as she walks over to the bed and carefully lays the sleeping woman down, sliding off her headphones to work them on Suvi.

With some luck, maybe music will add another hour to the restless officer's sleeping schedule. Sara cautiously creeps away as she adjusts the volume on her omni-tool, mulling if she should put on mom's songs. Why not? Suvi already heard one; and maybe Sara's a tad biased, but she's always found the piano to have a soothing effect.

 _"Pathfinder,"_ SAM chimes on their private channel, _"Lieutenant Harper is requesting to speak with you in the bio lab."_

"About anything—or anyone—in particular?" Sara whispers as she makes way for the exit, stealing a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure that Suvi's asleep.

 _"Yes, Pathfinder; about the asari ark. The Lieutenant says she has a lead she'd like to investigate and would like to form a plan with you."_

"No rest for the wicked," Sara mutters, sighing dejectedly. "Let Cora know I'm on my way."

But she takes the long way again.

...Hoping she'll bump into Peebee, _if_ she returns.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Jeez, Rem, I said I'm sorry!" Sophie calls out from the other side of the door, laughing. "I just wanted to come home early to surprise ya!"

"Well, congratulations," Remedy grumbles. "You almost got stabbed for it too."

"Oh~ yeah, I woulda totally gotten a gnarly scar with that butter knife of yours." The sarcasm is strong with this one. "Not sure what would be more sad, actually getting cut by that thing, or the story behind the stitches." That's... Isn't that pretty much the same thing? "Anyways, how many times do I gotta say sorry? Lemme show it, open up the door already! I wanna take you to the slice'a heaven I found. Got our boards ready too."

Remedy looks at the door, contemplating on how mad she actually is—which is not _really,_ not anymore; especially not with the promise of surfing. She concedes to the truth and facts of her feelings when Sophie tries the handle... And discovers the door was never locked. She peeks her head around the corner with that stupid free-spirited grin of hers, her eyebrows bouncing playfully. "Whaddya say, Rem?"

"Don't forget we have our finals tomorrow," Remedy sighs as she pushes away from her desk, playing the grump when she feels anything but. When she stands up, she rolls her eyes when Sophie isn't even in the room anymore. Remedy raises her voice to be heard _somewhere_ in their apartment. "Did you even study?!"

"Yeah, they're steady!" Sophie yells back. "You'll like them!"

"So that's a no, but..." Remedy's brow furrows in confusion. "What did she think I said _this_ time?" She shrugs it off and ties her hair up, changing into her wetsuit. She smirks when arms lock around her waist again, pushing her hand away as devilish fingers sneak past the zipper to run up between her breasts.

"You don't need the suit for where we're going, luv." Sophie purrs, her voice dropping with the nail skimming the side of Remedy's breast. "Help me study later, actuator?"

Remedy chuckles huskily. "Do you at least know what that part does or did you pull that rhyme out your ass?" Her head lulls back to rest on Sophie's shoulder when the hand travels lower, slipping between her legs. She gasps when the firm fingers thrust, rubbing and using the suit as friction.

Warmth hits the shell of her ear as a raspy voice floods it. "It's function is to provide thrust and positioning, no?"

Not quite. But. "It can."

Sophie's grinning. Remedy _knows._ The hitch in breath and rush of air is a telling sign that this smug jerk is grinning with an ego bigger than the country they're in. Remedy doesn't care though; she reaches up and wraps her arm around Sophie's neck, holding for dear life as she immerses in the growing pleasure. She's gently pushed forward and turned around until she's pinned against the desk, and Sophie knocks off all of Remedy's meticulously organized binders.

"Hey!"

Sophie smirks devilishly. "I'm sure you've studied them all front and back, possum." She slowly peels Remedy's wetsuit from the shoulders, leaning close and playfully nipping an earlobe. Shivers roll down Remedy's back at the sinful promise _._ "Now it's my turn to study _you,_ front..." The suit hits the floor. A nail traces the ridges of Remedy's spine. "...and back."

-—-—-—-—-—-

Readings are mixed. The exile is either dreaming, or remembering. Only time will tell if the information is stored as a long-term memory, or a short-term dream to be eliminated soon enough. Will Remedy remember anything if she's been paralyzed in consciousness? Or will she forget all that's happened now that she's unconscious, as she should be?

At least she's stable. Brain activity is at an all time high and the heart rate is growing suspicious, but not alarming. It's all indicative of physical exertion; hopefully a good kind.

Lexi charts on her patient and the mechanics surrounding the surgery itself, while making notes and hypothesizing outcomes—both during the 'coma' and what abilities might be impaired or lost due to the area of the brain she had to surgically remove; Broca's area. With a swift destruction, function won't have had the time to shift to other areas, resulting in total loss of it.

There's no way around it. Remedy will likely suffer from aphasia or dysarthria, or _both,_ and the severity will be determined once—if—she wakes up. Speech therapy and exploring other alternative means of communication will highly likely be required.

Goddess willing—and Lexi is by no means spiritual—Remedy will only have to tackle motor control, and not comprehension problems. In the galaxy they're in now, and in her career... Not being able to understand language is not an option. Implants can only do so much, and most of them are designed for a healthy brain with intact cognitive function.

Lexi sighs tiredly. She finishes her chart and locks her console, standing over the exile and watching. She doesn't need to look over to know that Liam's keeping an eye on her. Ironic; comical, almost. The doctor is being looked after by the patient. She takes Suvi's seat, gingerly holding Remedy's hand as promised, brainstorming why her colleague is so attached to this woman.

So far, all Lexi knows is that this is the exile Suvi replaced. A variation of survivor's guilt perhaps; or a manifestation of something that can't be so easily defined. It's just like Suvi to care, but to this degree? Lexi rubs Remedy's hand thoughtfully, constantly checking circulation with the fingers of the bandaged hand. Whoever treated it lathered a surprisingly generous amount of medi-gel even though there must not have been an overwhelming amount of supplies on hand; an indicator of a doctor who's actually compassionate about their patients.

Or maybe one who was bribed to _donate_ that much medi-gel...

If there's someone who wants Remedy dead, maybe there's someone who wants her alive; perhaps that other asari? SAM dug up very little from facial recognition records, stating the rest had been corrupted. The age is all Lexi wanted to know anyways.

Bringing up her omni-tool—while holding the exile's hand—Lexi stares at a picture of Sha'ira T'Loak; she should be close to the Matriarch stage, being 666 years old. And—

And... This isn't real, is it?

If the rest had been 'corrupted', there is a likely chance what's showing has been hacked into and changed to cover any tracks. The asari in the picture isn't even the same _skin color_ as the one Lexi remembers in the recorded feed, and from what she remembers in Omega, there was only one T'Loak. Lexi clicks her tongue off the roof of her mouth in annoyance. All she needs to know is what stage the asari might be in to figure out what sort of meld was performed; to figure out the motive behind it, and whether or not it was an intentional move to keep the connection alive.

Subtle pressure squeezes her hand. She shuts off her omni-tool and watches Remedy carefully, studying her expressions to determine if she's regaining consciousness or if this is just an idle reflex. Lexi rubs along the wrist extensors to cue the muscles to relax, smiling when Remedy squeezes again instead.

Finally, a good sign.

Looking over her shoulder, Lexi sees that Liam's asleep. She knows her colleague would want to be here, but she's worried how Suvi will react once Remedy reacts—and likely panics—if she realizes pieces of her are _missing._ It's without a doubt she'll go into shock. Suvi doesn't need to add to the casualty count.

 _"Dr. T'Perro, Ms. Kedar is waking up. Dr. Anwar is on her way."_ SAM injects, and Lexi's head drops in defeat.

Of course. Suvi likely asked SAM to update her, no matter what.

Within seconds, a harried woman tumbles in with a totally wrinkled uniform, hair sticking out in all sorts of angles, and headphones hanging for dear life on one shoulder. Lexi can't help but laugh at the sight. Suvi doesn't seem to notice—or care.

"How is she? SAM said she's waking up; is she truly? Is it safe, is she—"

"Suvi, take a deep breath," Lexi urges calmly, trying to suppress her chuckles. "It is good and it's okay. Just please do your best not to panic, okay? It's important I run tests on Remedy and that we keep her as comfortable as possible. This is going to be a very scary time for her." Lexi checks on her patient, watching an eyelid flutter. She rises from her chair slowly, smiling to herself when Suvi immediately possesses the spot protectively.

"Am I allowed to hold her hand, Lexi?"

"Soon. I'd like to assess her motor function and if she'll be able to follow my instructions." Lexi grabs a penlight and stands by until Remedy appears fully lucid. As soon as she seems to study her surroundings, Lexi steps in beside Suvi and gently squeezes Remedy's shoulder. "Ms. Kedar?"

Remedy's head lazily lulls to them, a lost look over her glazed eye. Hopefully the pain medication she's on doesn't impair understanding severely.

Lexi smiles reassuringly, ready to begin her doctor schpeel as she lifts the penlight. Suvi beats her to the punch, grabbing and squeezing Remedy's hand anyways, beaming a warm smile with tears in her eyes. Her hoarse voice quivers with relief.

" _Welcome back, Remedy._ "

-—-—-—-—-—-

Right. Okay. Remy gets this.

No she doesn't.

Who the fuck are these people? The redhead looks and sounds familiar. Everything is foggy. The bright lights hurt to look at. She flinches when the asari flashes a penlight directly in her eye, but she refuses to say anything. Not until she knows where the hell she is. The asari keeps asking her things, testing things, and Remy follows the instructions to the letter.

Sometimes it takes time; hard to concentrate too. The redhead looks like she's going to burst into tears any second now, and Remy has no idea if they're _good_ tears or bad ones. Didn't her name start with an S?

"Ms. Kedar, I'm going to take the gauze off your other eye and also test it's function," the asari states. "Do I have your permission?"

Not really. But. Remy nods.

She braces herself for the bright light again when the gauze is carefully peeled off; what happened to her eye again, anyways? Pain ripples down her skull every time she tries to remember details. When she's asked to look to the right, she notices a man on another plinth, watching her. There's a terminal beside her bed; she'll have to take a look before she bails out of here. Hopefully this asari— _if_ she's a certified doctor—has notes on what's transpired to Remy.

"Excellent, you're doing good. Now look here at my fingers." The asari snaps, then holds up her index. It takes a bit to truly focus on it; it's even harder to follow when it moves, but doable. A dull ache throbs at the center of Remy's forehead. She isn't worried about passing whatever tests these are so much as she's worried of this stranger's credentials.

What if she's 'passing' because this person doesn't actually know what's a legitimate pass or fail?

Remy looks at the redhead, looks at their joined hands. She squeezes weakly. Smiles. Something's wrong. She pulls away and sluggishly touches her face, her jaw, her cheeks. Dread and anxiety needles into her chest when she pats her lips. They don't move easily. She has to concentrate just to swallow.

"Lexi?" The redhead inquires worriedly, looking up at the 'doctor'.

Now Remy has a name to curse. Her cutting gaze hones in on the asari when she nears, her calm demeanor more irritating than soothing. Remy smacks her hand away. "Sss..." Her eyebrows furrow. She tries to snarl. She can't. "Sss..." Sure. 'Cause hissing is the next best thing. "Ssst..."

Stay.

 _Stay away._

Why can't she say it? She knows what she wants to say. She can scream it loud and clear in her mind. She wants to tell these assholes she hates their looks of pity. She doesn't need pity. She's seen it before when she lost her legs. All the nurses, and doctors, and physiotherapists, and even fucking Sophie.

Now Suvi is doing the same thing.

Remy snatches the redhead's wrist before she can get away. The man on the other plinth reacts, clambering off hastily with an omni-blade shipped out. Lexi blocks him. Remy taps the redhead's forearm, wiggling her fingers to mimic typing. Thankfully her silent request is understood; a haptic interface is engaged and her signal is recognized, accepted, reading that she's given unrestricted access, connecting to the implants now buzzing in her fingertips.

Trust, given so easily. Why? It's foolish. The redhead's liable and sooner to get burned.

...But Remy doesn't dare abuse that trust. Not until she has a way out of here. She pulls on the redhead's arm to be a little closer, typing the message on the omni-tool.

 _[Stay away.]_

She stares at the message. Reads it over and over again.

Then erases it when she determines it's just about the dumbest thing to write, with who she's pulling _closer_ just to write it.

Remy thinks. And thinks. And thinks. She tries to mouth something, but she can't even do that. She finally types a question and pushes the redhead's arm back to her, who reads the message aloud.

"Where am I?"

Remy watches Lexi's face. For a fleeting moment, the asari's calm demeanor cracks. "You're aboard the Tempest. You were rescued and brought here to treat your injuries."

Lexi throws a stern look at the man and his omni-blade, who reluctantly disengages it. Remy notes the cast on his foot. He's a rather protective patient. This medical bay is definitely not Kadara-grade either. Too clean. _Tempest,_ huh? A ship? As long as it's not the Nexus, she's happy. She motions for the redhead's arm to type a new message, ignoring the sheen turquoise orbs. The color reminds Remy of Kadara's toxic water.

The color of her hair reminds Remy of Sophie, too.

Typing her message, Remy tries to mouth the words the entire time. It's like her jaw refuses to coordinate with her, or moves _after_ a thought long passed. She doesn't think of the implications. She doesn't let fear take over. Honestly, she wishes it actually would; because then she'd feel _something_ and not nothing.

Like when she found out she lost her legs.

Like when she found out she lost Sophie; her crutch and pillar, even with legs.

"Why can't I talk?" The redhead's voice quivers as she reads Remy's message out loud again. "What did you do to me?"

Remy narrows her eyes when the redhead exchanges a fearful look with Lexi. The 'doctor' frowns. "I _saved_ you. You required brain surgery and—"

And—stop listening right there; _brain_ surgery?

"Ph..." Remy tries. "Phh..." And tries. "Phhh..." And absolutely **refuses** to give up. "Uh..."

Beads of sweat collect on her brow from the effort. She'll never hear the end of it if T'Lova finds out that she can't even say the most important word in any galaxy.

" _Uuu_ _h_ _...ck..._ "

She closes her eyes as she tries to imagine Sophie at the doorway. A sharp pang burrows in Remy's heart when that free-spirited grin is all that remains in her memory. She can't even hear Sophie's voice anymore. She opens her eyes when familiar warmth intertwines between her fingers; how is this even remotely familiar, though? She watches as the redhead brings her hand up to breathe against her knuckles.

And is surprised to hear a chuckle bubble out her own mouth, with what Suvi whispers ever so quietly.

"Agreed. This is _s_ _hite._ "

-—-—-—-—-—-

Time flies by now. Adrenaline has completely faded away, and Suvi feels guilty that now—more than ever—her mind is drifting to sleep; but now she finally has a chance to really get to know who the engineer is, even if she gets the sense that Remedy is holding back a lot. Then again, it must be a nuisance to constantly be typing.

Remedy's handling her predicament remarkably well, though. A facade? Pretending to be calm? Perhaps reality hasn't sunken in yet. Suvi doesn't want to leave to give the engineer that chance for her mind to drift too. She props her head up on a fist, trying to resist the urge to reach for Remedy's hand—or Remy, as she prefers to be called, and prefers not to be touched.

It's difficult to remember that Suvi's had all the time in the world to bond with this woman.

All Remy has is _Nexus_ from a bar, and then another grueling fight for her life, and now here; all after a serious brain injury, and surgery, and now recovery. Who knows what else is disrupting what Remy is actually like, and who she is? She's still suffering from a concu—

A tap on the shoulder breaks Suvi's reverie. She lifts her head, surprised at _how much_ she has to lift it. When had she rested it on the bed? A wave draws her gaze to Remy, who points at Suvi's forearm. She engages her omni-tool and offers it, trying to take care not to rest it on Remy's stomach... But she's exhausted. She mumbles a defeated apology when it flops down anyways.

Remy's lopsided smile is the best she can do. She types away on Suvi's omni-tool.

 _[Get some Z's before you kick me off my own bed.]_

"Sorry," Suvi chuckles. "I haven't slept in a while."

"A while?" Liam drawls sarcastically, and Suvi frantically twists in her chair, waving at him to shut up. Not that _that's_ suspicious, of course not. He either ignores her, or pretends he doesn't see her; there's no other option. "More like: a week. Sat here the whole time."

Shite. He's taken up Lexi's mantle of being a mother hen. At least she's left for a break.

Suvi's mouth opens to 'correct' Liam—aka lie—but her forearm's tugged. She turns back to the engineer, reading another message left for her. She laughs. It's the first time she's heard herself full-out laugh in a long, _long_ time. Warmth ebbs under her cheeks at how shamelessly forward Remy is, too.

 _[A week? Couldn't take your eyes off me? Good to know what little's left of me are the good-looking parts.]  
_

Despite the friendly message, Suvi notices that Remy seems to be studying her; seems doubtful and on guard, too. On a limb, desperate to build a bridge and show she can be trusted, Suvi types on her own omni-tool for a shred of privacy. If only there were a way to section this area off so that Liam wouldn't hear them.

 _{I understand why you may not trust me; I can't imagine what life on Kadara was like, but know that I do care and I am here for you.}_

She can't help but stare at the eye that had been uncovered; the iris' color overwhelmed by the subtle blue glow of the implant underneath. She worries her lip when the spark in Remy's normal eye dies out, and Suvi nervously extends her arm so that her message can be read. The engineer's weak smile fades away. Her gaze constantly flickers to Suvi. Remy erases the message to write her own, but keeps the omni-tool angled so that Suvi can read along. Her stomach sinks.

 _[On Kadara, anyone who doesn't want something is suspicious. But you...]_ Remy hesitates, her fingers hovering above the keyboard. She takes a deep breath and continues dejectedly. _[I used to be like you. What went wrong?]_

"Nothing," Suvi blurts passionately, no longer caring that Liam's listening to them. "You did what you had to, to survive. I would've done the same." Without thinking, she grabs Remy's hand, not oblivious to how uncomfortable the engineer appears with touch. Despite it, Suvi uses it to drive her point home and squeezes Remy's hand firmly. "You and I aren't any different, Remy. We're the same. We're pioneers. We're dreamers. We're—"

Remy laughs, but it's wry and hollow. She shakes her head. "M. A..." Her hand slips away. "Ka..." Her eyebrows knit in frustration, and she repeats herself. "M, a, ka..." Suvi's heart wrenches at how much effort it takes for the engineer to talk. Her mouth refuses to coordinate and the space of time in between make it difficult to piece the puzzle together, but not impossible. Especially when she stops stumbling, stops repeating, and starts finishing. "Rim...Nal..."

 _I'm a criminal._

It's Suvi's turn to shake her head. Her hand slips back over Remy's. " **No.** You're a hero."

Another hollow laugh.

It only emboldens Suvi's resolve and she lands the killing blow. "You saved those angaran children and took them under your wing. Criminals don't care about others, Remy. When you sent me that message on Kadara, you didn't ask me to help you; you asked me to help those children. You put them first." She squeezes Remy's hand with both of her own. "I understand you don't trust me. I understand you don't believe me. But if nothing else, please trust this: you and I aren't any different. We're the same, because _you care too._ "

Remy stares blankly. Thinking? Processing? Suvi admittedly grows impatient for a reaction. Her heart lurches to her throat when Remy makes a move for her omni-tool; but the message—the tears gathering in Remy's normal eye—gives Suvi a deeper insight at what _true_ agony is to this scarred woman.

 _[You sound like Sophie.]_


	10. Chapter 10

**The Lucifer Effect** **  
**Author's Note: Medical Jargon Bottomline - Remy has difficulty speaking because it's a motor control problem, not comprehension. What she has is 'dysarthria' which is an impairment of speech, whilst aphasia is an impairment of language. So it's like saying a word vs having that word. There are a ton of sub-types but this isn't Blue's Anatomy ;P Things get intense, but hope you still enjoy and hang in there!

* * *

Remedy shifts uncomfortably. She's already been warned not to move, but she can't help it. She hates this. Hates that she's just decaying here in a near-vegetative state.

It's worse than near-death.

She looks over at the empty chair. As much as she actually _wanted_ the company to keep her mind off this, it wouldn't have helped if Sophie passed out on her. She looks down at the sheets; they hug two stumps, then nothing beyond that. She doesn't even have knees, but what's scarier is that it feels like she _still does._

Her head sinks into the pillows as she takes a deep breath, trying to stave off the tears. She had a bright future ahead of her. She could see it; now it's all shrouded in darkness, and she has no clue what tomorrow holds for her. She doesn't even know what _today_ holds for her.

She hates the unknown.

Remedy's gaze snaps to the room's entrance when the door slides open. Her mouth instinctively curls into a smile without hesitation, or thought.

"Sophie..."

-—-—-—-—-—-

 _Suvi..._

Remy tries not to smile. Instinct takes over anyways, saying it's _okay_ with this one. It's not okay. Anybody who's aligned with Nexus is never okay; especially the man on the other plinth. He won't stop staring at her, won't stop staring at Suvi too. Suspicious much?

"I asked Gil for this," Suvi breaks Remy from her stare-down, and she looks back at the approaching woman. She still hasn't figured out what Suvi is; her uniform is the mark of a civilian of some sort though. No military training, then. Good to know.

Something is thrust in front of Remy's face. A datapad? Suvi taps the screen to unlock it, and a slew of formulas litter the screen. Remy grunts when a headache immediately burrows between her eyes; her brain's already trying to solve the equations and she wants to do literally _anything_ but. She brusquely pushes Suvi's hand away.

 _Apologize. That was rude._

So what? The agony is more freaking important. Why the hell is Remy chastising herself _now,_ of all times?

...But she concedes to the kicked puppy look all over Suvi's face, and motions for the omni-tool to type. If only the doc let her use her other hand; it's not like the implants will cause any more damage than there already is. A groan gurgles in the back of Remy's throat. Her brain won't shut the fuck up today, and here's Suvi waltzing in with an infinite list of calculations to make.

 _At least she's trying to help._

Remy ignores herself—if only it were actually possible—and reaches when the omni-tool hovers in front of her, typing. _[Sorry. Major headache.]_ She pauses, thinking, caving in. _[But... Thank you for trying to help me pass the time.]_ She pushes Suvi's arm far more gently now, struggling to get the other half of her mouth coordinated in a weak grin.

Suvi reads the message, her crestfallen look clearly etched in every single feature of her face. She's so easy to read, it's almost endearing; even more so when she smiles apologetically, but brightly. "I should be the one apologizing. I should've remembered about your concussion."

Oh. Hah. Yeah. Concussion... Remy almost forgot about that. The whole getting her brain poked just kinda seems a bit more of a pressing issue. But she gets where Suvi's coming from. Gets that it's the grumpy side thinking that Suvi is in fact the one that should be apologizing, and not Remy. Gets that Suvi's just trying to help. Gets that it's still the grumpy side thinking that Suvi should know better.

Remy's already been through all that hocus pocus therapy to understand why everybody else would get frustrated with her; if only they went through the same and just tried to imagine how frustrating it was—is—to _be_ her.

All half of her.

And now—

"May I keep you company, or...?" Suvi worries her lip. She has a nervous tic—or Remy thinks it's a nervous tic, with how often it happens—and sometimes Suvi's thumb tends to rub along her other palm. Is it to soothe, or is there a scar hidden by the gloves? The longer she stands, the more Remy wonders what for.

Then she remembers.

Without thinking, she pats her bed and nods as her answer. She doesn't dare try to talk, not anymore. It's embarrassing—depressing—how _idiotic_ she sounds now. T'Lova would surely joke that Remy now looks and sounds the part; except it wouldn't be a joke anymore.

At least Suvi doesn't seem to mind, and she doesn't have that look of pity anymore either.

Remy ignores the man bristling in silence, focusing all her attention on learning everything there is to learn about Suvi. The woman's an open book; she makes absolutely no move to hide anything about herself. She's setting herself up for danger. How long would it take until Kadara tainted this one too? It'd probably set a record time. There's something about Suvi that screams honesty; and honest people were the first to die out on that god-forsaken planet.

Remy shoves the memories away, but there are nothing but reminders everywhere. If it's not Kadara, it's Sophie, or the Nexus, or how everybody's dream has been shattered by cruelty and reality, or how Remy has turned into a criminal just like anyone else. She's probably considered the 'stereotypical exile' on this ship.

But then Suvi gently takes her hand. Remy still doesn't understand why this one is being this kind to her; compassion only goes so far. Didn't Suvi mention something about being woken up to replace her? Maybe it's just simply curiosity that's turned into a complicated clusterfuck now.

Dull pain trickles in and starts to throb in the center of Remy's forehead and she groans. Too many questions, too much thinking. She subtly shakes her head when she feels her hand squeezed. Her chest squeezes too, when Suvi leans forward and rests her elbows on the plinth, whispering ever so quietly. "Would it help if I told a story?"

Remy's brow furrows in confusion. She nods dumbly. Anything is better than suffering in silence like this, anyways. Suvi smiles softly. The lights behind her head make her look like she's got some sort of freaking halo; cheesy, but true. Maybe she's a guardian angel. Something tells Remy she wouldn't be here right now, _alive_ and relatively intact.

But the reminder is too much.

One woman pulled her out of water, another woman pulled her out of fire.

Remy closes her eyes, trying to stall the tears growing in one of them. She squeezes the hand in hers as tightly as possible. Her mouth refuses to move. Frustration burns and makes her snap, makes the tears roll. She hears Suvi curse under her breath, then warmth seeps into the back of her hand. She can't even cuss this anger out herself. She can't say she wants to be left alone. She can't do _anything_ anymore. She's just lying here, utterly useless, assaulted by memories over 600 years old.

Now there's a woman who may as well be Sophie #2.

She tries to pull her hand away, but Suvi won't let her. " _It'll get better,_ " she murmurs into Remy's hand. Something wet touches it too. "I promise it will. You're under the best care here. Cutting edge technology and an A.I., and the best of the best work here. I promise you'll get nothing but the best here."

Remy doesn't want the best of the best. She wants to get out of here. She wants to go back to Kadara, to the kids, to—

 _...The kids!_

Her eyes snap open and she squeezes the hand in hers so it won't get away, tugging and tugging until Suvi offers her forearm. Remy tries to blink the mist away from the world, ignoring it fiercely, swallowing her pride. This is weakness on Kadara. It'd rip her apart and dance on her grave if she was ever caught crying, and now it's the only thing left that she's able to do. How much more will be taken away from her until both the Milky Way and Andromeda are satisfied?

Omni-tool engaged, Remy types furiously, determined to get the answer to that question. _[Where are the kids? Can you bring them here?]_ She studies Suvi's expression, keen on absolutely any fucking change that might hint on something terrible.

It doesn't come as a hint, but as a goddamn roar.

Suvi's eyes are still sheen, but she immediately turns off her omni-tool and looks down, cutting off any means for Remy to communicate and _interrogate_ her.

Damn if she won't try, though.

Remy keeps telling herself: _open your mouth._ Open. Open. Open. Tongue to the roof of the mouth. Tongue, to— "SSS..." She'll get this. She has to. If she can say 'fuck', she's going to learn to combine it with Suvi's name if any harm came to the angaran children. "Ooh..."

Vee.

How the hell is she supposed to make that sound? It's not like she paid attention to the exact movements of her mouth back when she _could_ talk. She keeps repeating _vee_ in her thoughts, hoping her lips and teeth will magically coordinate with each other. They don't. Time to move on to the next best thing, then.

" _Fi._ "

Too light, too airy, but it'll do.

Until realization crashes down as to _who_ she actually called out.

Remy knows it. There's no way Suvi doesn't know it, with the look she's making now. And for the first time in ages, Remy falls apart; a heart-wrenching sound bubbles in her throat, _no human_ should ever sound like this. She watches the med-bay's entrance, hoping the doors will slide open, desperate to remember the woman with that stupid grin.

"Sofi..."

-—-—-—-—-—-

Sara folds her hands behind her head and aimlessly meanders around the vidcon room. Tasks sit on top of a hundred other tasks in her mind. She collapses on the couch, draping a forearm over her eyes. Her brain is honestly _hurting_ from the weight of each decision waiting to be made; how is she supposed to prioritize priority missions? This is worse than triage drills.

There's the angaran children, the asari ark, the sightings of turian survivors on Havarl, the need to convince exiles to return to the Nexus, the need to convince krogan to return to the Nexus, the need to convince an asari—

"Why the fuck is everybody fighting each other?" Sara hisses under her breath, turning to lie on her side and face the conference room.

 _"I have pondered on that myself, Pathfinder."_ SAM chimes on their private channel.

Great. In addition to this shitstorm, she has a curious A.I. who's just as confused as her.

"Was hoping you'd have the answer to that, SAM." Sara sighs, then chuckles humorlessly. "You'd think everybody would realize 'hey if we don't work together, we're going to go extinct', but _noooo..._ Let's just drive ourselves into extinction even fucking faster and dump all our problems on one chick who doesn't know _what the fuck_ she's doing, and expect her to fix all the mistakes everybody keeps fucking making. Yeah, what a great idea! What could _possibly_ go wrong?"

A beat. Within a second, Sara's heart plummets to the dreadful pit of her stomach.

 _"There are many possibilities. The chance of_ — _"_

"Sarcasm, SAM! I don't actually want the statistics of all the ways the Initiative can fail!" Sara groans, flopping on her back to cover her eyes again. "I need support, actual support from people who want to make this work. It can't be just the people on this ship; and not even everybody on this ship are working to make this work..." she huffs bitterly, her thoughts pulling in the one direction she's trying to avoid.

"Speak for yourself. You're the one being a drama queen on the couch while we're all busting our ass."

Sara freezes. Her eyes snap open as she shoots up into sitting, but is shoved back down. She blinks in disbelief. "Peebee?" She tries to get up, but is shoved back down again. A spike of hot anger burns beneath Peebee's touch. Sara nearly snaps at all the _nerves_ this arrogant asari has, but crumbles when Peebee turns and walks to the stairs, casually waving over her shoulder as she leaves the conference room.

"What's taking you so long? Get up, Pathfinder!" Peebee shouts out from the research center. There's a mischievous grin in that smug voice; she's _asking_ for trouble. "We got work to do and a cluster of clusterfucks to fix!"

A beat. Within a second, Sara's heart soars to pound at the base of her throat.

"You know where to find me when you need me!"

When?

 **N** **ow.**

-—-—-—-—-—-

" _Fuck,_ " Peebee gasps, trapped between wall and woman. Again. _D_ _éjà vu,_ much? She smirks lazily when heated breaths skirt over the sensitive cartilage of her ear canal, sending tingles down her spine. A flood of goosebumps break out when Ryder's hand sneaks under her jacket and ghosts across the small of her back.

"Who pissed you off?" Peebee asks breathlessly, cheekily. Her answer is muffled grumbling against her shoulder again, but this time she knows who.

She knows who pissed herself off too. Ryder isn't going to get away with her fuck up, and for expecting Peebee to just be a willing accomplice too. No way. Those kids should've been with the pirate from the start; Peebee and Jaal should've had a much bigger say since they did all the work. Plus maybe a wee bit Cora, but mostly those two.

Instead, the _almighty, macho, powerful_ Pathfinder frankly said: fuck no.

Because apparently boarding with complete strangers is smarter than being with the foster parent? Sometimes Ryder's logic—or lack thereof—worries Peebee.

Now they're here again. Pushing. Pulling. Fighting. Fucking. Fighting. It's a never-ending war. Peebee can't find it in herself to end it, though. The heady rush is addicting. Anger even more so; but the way Ryder handles her this time _hurts_ without actually hurting. It's beyond a mindless need to blow off the frustration.

It's a mindful need to hurt.

This is a string. There isn't supposed to be any of them of any kind; not just from Ryder's end, but Peebee's too. She can't bring herself to cut it. She was pulled back by it. She's surrendering. She's supposed to be fighting. No, she's supposed to be _running._

Pressure builds, and she hates it. Hates how she's responding, thrumming, humming. Hates the woman coaxing all of this out of her. Hates how the woman is changing her. Hates her for making her agonize over staying or leaving. She's not supposed to agonize, she's not supposed to _anything._ She hopped on board for an adventure and the unknown and the Remnant and she's doing anything and everything _but_ what she actually wants.

" _I hate everything about you,_ " slips out her mouth. She stops, and the hands on her stop. Silence falls, making every ragged breath thunder. Peebee nervously chews the inside of her lip when Ryder doesn't do anything. Peebee's heart drops at the hoarse mumble back.

"I know." Ryder suddenly pulls and turns away, hiding her face. "And it hurts." She takes a deep breath. Her shoulders slump, and she chuckles mirthlessly. "But it's not because you hate everything about me." She shrugs and stuffs her hands in her pockets. Peebee wants to scream _don't say it,_ but she's frozen in place. This stupid human is going to ruin what little's left between them.

The Pathfinder—no longer bearing a name to shield Peebee—walks out, but not before delivering the final blow to torment them even more. Selfish asshole.

"It's because _I love everything about you._ "

-—-—-—-—-—-

"What is wrong with you?" Drack grumbles in annoyance. "And don't lie to me, kid. You never bring me along. Not unless you need me to headbutt sense in ya."

"You're bored, I get it." Sara sighs. "So go find shit to kill."

"Not gettin' rid of me that easily. What's eating you up this time, kid? Tann piss you off?"

"No, of course not, because bureaucrats _never_ piss me off..." she drawls sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She leans on the railing and watches Jaal on the platform below, talking with whom she presumes are his mothers as the children hide behind him. This is still for the best, she tells herself. The exile is dangerous and has never been fit to care for them.

Remedy has some nerve for trying, after what she's put those kids through. They deserve a normal and proper family; ones who understand and can provide both the biological and emotional necessities.

...But Sara can't believe her own bullshit, can't stop from feeling like she's missing or misunderstanding something, can't stop from believing that second chances should exist. Besides, what even constitutes as 'normal' or 'proper' anymore? She's torn. She doesn't trust the exile, but wants to trust the exile. _'Yalaon'_ showed the kids trust Remedy, but they're just kids. They can be tricked, which is the fucking theme of Kadara. That exile must have done the same just to survive. With everything SAM uncovered, she was manipulative; but who knows if she was manipulative to or _for_ the kids?

Why does everything have to be all kinds of god damn gray? This is too complicated.

She avoids looking anywhere near Drack's direction, knowing he's studying her, knowing he knows something is eating her up, knowing he knows that she did bring him for the exact reason he said. She needs sense knocked into her, logic that actually makes sense. Maybe then it'll stop her from feeling like a brat trying to fill daddy's shoes.

It pisses her off that she's the one pissing herself off nowadays, nobody else.

Drack sighs. She steals a sideways glance, watching him push off from the railing. "I think you already know what you want, kid. Should listen to that instead."

If only it could be that easy. Sara props her chin on her palm and shrugs. "Sometimes I can't always have what I want, and sometimes what I want isn't what's good."

"Who's the one sayin' it is or isn't good? You. You're the one gettin' in your own way. Everybody else's way too. Look." Drack taps her shoulder, making her turn around. "You take a good look at who's watchin' from the ship. See that?" He points to the ramp leading to the cargo bay; it's hard to see in this distance, but the colors make it easy to tell as to who's watching from afar.

Suvi and Peebee.

"They never wanted this shit. Nobody does. I know you don't want this shit either, kid. So why the hell are you going through with this?"

"Because we can't take them in and keep them with us." Sara looks away. "And we don't know what Remedy's like—or will be like now, with all that crap with her brain. She's an unknown but I _know_ she's dangerous, especially to them."

"If you know something about her then spit it out already." Drack huffs, stomping to stand right in front of her. "Why don't you actually want the kids with her?"

Sara grits her teeth, looking to the other side. Drack just moves until he's in front of her, trapping her against the railing when he grabs her shoulders, forcing her to meet his eyes. Sara snaps, growling. "You're looking at me like _I'm_ a criminal, tearing a family apart. I'm not." She shoves his chest with all her strength, but there's no way she's going to make this krogan budge. "That's what the exile did, and she's been playing _fucking pretend._ I'm willing to bet my life those kids don't know what she did, that she's the one that's been lying this entire time."

Drack frowns, confused, but at least he finally backs off. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"She killed their parents, Drack! SAM pieced their story together with a broken turret Cora found in their home. That exile even had the nerve to _keep_ the fucking turret for parts." Sara spits vehemently, knowing fully well how sensitive the topic of children is to the krogan. "So you tell me: what the fuck would you do?"

...And she immediately regrets revealing this to such a krogan.

Especially when Drack storms back to the Tempest.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Drack, stop this at once! What do you think you're doing?!" Lexi barks, rushing to the nearest cabinet to grab a syringe—several, this is a krogan after all—containing a potent sedative. She _will_ use it if she has to. The horrifying scene unfolds before her as Drack lifts the exile right off the bed and rips out the IV from her, his prosthetic hand wrapped around her throat. Remedy claws, gasping for air, her stumps kicking wildly, blood dripping down from her elbow where the IV was.

The Pathfinder charges inside a second later, a pistol aimed at _Drack._ Liam's already halfway out his bed, omni-blade out.

"Put her down!" Sara yells, marching fearlessly to the krogan, pistol at his head. "I didn't tell you what I did so you could do this, Drack. I'm ordering you: put her down _now!_ "

" **No.** " Drack seethes, bringing the writhing exile to his face. Her movements are slowing. The color from her face is drained, skin stained by the bright red trailing down. "You're garbage. Don't deserve to live. I've done fucked up shit in my life as a pirate, but nothing like what you did."

"Drack, let her go or I swear I'll shoot your fucking hand!" Sara shouts, unlocking the safety. "You're going to kill her!"

"Good!" His fingers tighten, his teeth bared in a vicious snarl. "She's worse than the _kett._ Why the hell are you backin' her up now, when you know what she did?"

Lexi panics when she looks over her shoulder, but nobody's outside the med-bay. Not yet; it's only a matter of time before Suvi comes here. Remedy falls limp. There's nothing to think about. Lexi quickly closes the distance and jams one syringe behind his arm, stepping to the other side when he looks down and exposes his neck. She sinks the other two syringes in, then uses her biotics to hold the exile before she's released.

Drack stumbles about, and Sara scrambles out of the way before he falls and crushes her. Liam starts to hobble to help and Lexi snaps. "SAM, lock the med-bay!" The doors slam shut. She never saw Suvi either, so that's one good thing at least. Now: damage control. She glares at Liam. "Get back to your bed, you're not supposed to be bearing any weight on that leg!" Then at Sara. "And you! What in the world is going on with Drack? What did you tell him?"

"More pressing issues at hand, doc," Sara urges as she rushes around the exile's plinth and unlocks it, rolling it closer. "Get her on here. She needs the IV and to get her head checked. I'll deal with Drack." She locks the plinth's wheels and stomps around as Lexi works to carefully lay Remedy back down, setting to work. Her hands are shaking; not out of fear, but fury. What in the world could have possessed Drack to go _this_ far and try to kill Remedy?

...And if so many attempts to take the exile's life have been made, there must be a reason for it.

So does she deserve a second chance?


	11. Chapter 11

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: We did read about Remy's first kill by her own hand, you're absolutely correct T-Rex ;) Hope everybody enjoys!

* * *

The best of the best work here. She'll get nothing but the best here. That's what Remy was promised.

She almost died today.

What's new.

Life is great.

Nothing to complain about.

Okay. But. Who the _fuck_ was the krogan and why the _fuck_ was he choking her and what the _fuck_ was he talking about and—

" _Phuhck!_ " Remy growls lazily, half her mouth still asleep. She throws a middle finger up in the air when she hears that fucking asari 'doctor' sigh.

But all of this still isn't the worst thing happening to her right now; rather, she can't _escape_ from this place. She's a prisoner. Suvi's the charmer, the manipulator, sent in to trick Remy that Nexus and this ship are the good guys. Maybe they know about Sophie. Maybe Suvi is just a play on words and looks and fucking everything else.

At least the krogan was _literally_ up front with what they actually intend to do to Remy.

She needs to get out of here. She refuses to speak to anyone. First she needs to figure out what she can use to walk, or construct some sort of makeshift wheelchair, somehow. Then she needs to knock out the other weirdo who won't stop waking up just to watch her, just to nap, just to wake up and watch her again. Doesn't he have anything better to do? He doesn't even say much either, just whispers with the doctor every now and then. What the hell is his problem?

Maybe he's planning and fantasizing about choking her too.

She's fantasizing about this ship going up in flames, that's for fucking sure. The krogan is going to be roasted first. And—

"Your readings are climbing up again. Please try to calm down, Ms. Kedar." Lexi states from her stupid terminal for the umpteenth time. "I understand you are distressed about the situation, but I assure you the Pathfinder has taken appropriate measures to ensure your safety. Everything is under control now."

Under control?

 _Under control?_

A fucking krogan **choked** her! How the hell is that _under control?!_ Their definition of slapping a leash on him is to have some other puny woman snarl in his face and bitch about how he's not following orders or respecting her authority. Uh, hello? Nobody knows who the fuck she is. Of course nobody's going to trust her leadership skills—if she even has such skills.

This ship is _Nexus_ left right and center.

Maybe Tann sent that krogan to squash her, just like the revolt. None of them know they picked the wrong fight with the wrong engineer. Remy has a few tricks up her sleeve to get herself out of here. She will get her revenge someday.

 _Count on it._

-—-—-—-—-—-

Everybody's pissed at everybody, and nobody is listening to nobody.

What a wonderful time to be _Pathfinder of the Initiative._ Such an esteemed position and privilege obviously only belongs to the worthy.

God, what a load of hanar shit. If they shit. Sara sighs irritably, pacing back and forth in her quarters. Music isn't helping, nor is exercise. Maybe swearing will help somehow? She's tense and she needs an outlet. She _refuses_ to go to Peebee, though. Refuses to use her, abuse her; refuses the same to be done to herself. The cycle is finally over. Cut and done, cold turkey time.

Not that she dares face Peebee now after what Sara blurted; not that it matters since it's undoubtedly scared the asari off for good.

Priorities. Tasks. There's plenty to do and no time to rest. Sara looks over at her desk; there's whiskey stashed in one of the drawers, but her crew will most definitely not take her seriously if she keeps drinking every single day.

It won't hurt anybody if she has a small glass. It will hurt somebody if she doesn't blow off this steam soon, though.

Sara helps herself to her magic drawer and takes out the necessities, relaxing just at the sound of whiskey pouring. She chucks down the first shot without thought.

 _"Pathfinder, Dr. Anwar is requesting to enter."_

"Shit!" Sara jumps, startled, hastily hiding everything in her drawer. She laughs nervously and rubs her nape. "Uh, sure, okay." She pauses, watching the doors slide open, mumbling out of habit. "And enable privacy mode." A terrible thought passes her mind at that. Anxiety starts to thrum under her skin and she turns around, leaning against her desk as she forces a smile.

Luckily, Suvi seems to buy the act as she enters and smiles back. It doesn't meet her eyes. Downcast eyes. Her smile is also forced. "Sorry to trouble you, Pathfinder... I wanted to personally update you on Jaal's success for finding the angaran children a home on Havarl."

"Personally," Sara echoes hollowly. She crosses her arms, set on the defense by Suvi's tone and refusal to make eye contact. "I take it you don't agree with my decision?"

Suvi clasps her hands together, thumb rubbing along her palm. Her voice quivers. "With all due respect, Pathfinder, I do not."

"I see." Sara swallows the sting, digesting the information. No matter how many times she hears it from the others, it's even harder to hear from Suvi, of all people. But... "I appreciate your candor." She pushes off from the desk, casually walking around Suvi, arms still crossed. The science officer bristles every time their eyes accidentally meet. "Care to elaborate as to why you don't? Out of all of us, you're the closest to that exile—"

"Her name is Remy." Suvi interjects, visibly remorseful after, lips thinning in a grimace.

"Right, sorry." Sara bows her head apologetically, but sticks to her plan. This is only proving the point she wants to make. "You're always honest, Suvi, so I'll be honest with you. I think your feelings regarding my decision are biased."

"And you aren't?" Suvi retorts ardently. She straightens in posture, readily meeting Sara's eyes now. "You believe I'm biased because I've spent time with Remy. I believe you're biased because you haven't spent time with Remy. She's not like the other exiles. She's not a criminal."

Sara's eyebrow quirks up in confusion. "I take it you've already read my report and heard about the altercation with Drack?"

"Of course," Suvi huffs, irritation slowly trickling in and chipping her cool exterior away. "SAM analyzed evidence uncovered, but Cora didn't search the house with the intention of uncovering evidence, but rather: enemies. There is a high likelihood that plenty of things were missed if they weren't sought after in the first place. Things you wouldn't have known if you didn't spend time with her."

"Things one might be blind to after spending _enough_ time with her?" Sara counters. She stands her ground and doesn't regret nor fault herself for being cautious. Not after being burned so many times. "I don't need to search the house if I have the weapon that killed the parents." She's not blind to the tears in Suvi's eyes, but she can't be blind to what Suvi is blind to. "A turret with a VI programmed to sync with implants; didn't you uncover a similar function when you and Lexi were investigating—"

"She didn't do it!" Suvi snaps, flushed and flustered. Her hands ball up into tight fists as she squeezes her eyes shut. "I know she didn't do it!"

"You don't _want_ her to be the one that was responsible, Suvi, I get that. Maybe it was an accident?" Sara tries to approach this gently, but she's always been abrasive and rough around the edges. She knows that... But at the same time, this is a situation that needs tough love; especially with exiles known to be skilled manipulators. With Suvi being such an open book, it would take 'Remy' no time to figure out what strings to pull.

"Or maybe you _want_ her to be responsible." Suvi fires back, looking back up with a ferocity in her eyes, determined as ever. It's a little hard not to admire it.

A little hard not to question it, too.

"How about we agree that we disagree?" Sara offers, holding her hands out to try and show she's the good guy here, even if she seems like the bad guy right now. That's just the natural order of things when one happens to be the deliverer of bad news. "We can head back to Kadara and search the house for more clues to confirm that she did do it." When Suvi frowns, Sara sighs. "Or confirm that she didn't do it. Does that sound fair to you?"

"What does it matter if you've sent away the kids? That's all she cared about. She put their safety above her own, is that not proof enough?"

"I'd love to believe you, Suvi, I really do; but I can't let this slide just because we aren't getting what we want, and aren't admitting what we're denying."

" _You're_ the one in denial, because then that means you'd have to face the consequences of a bad decision you made. You've already labeled her as guilty, and you refuse to see her as anything but a criminal. You're doing what's convenient for you. You always have." Suvi retorts, frustration blatantly clear in just about every part of her—from the way she's standing, to the voice edging on dripping venom. She's going to poison herself if she keeps this up.

All of it sets Sara on the defense again. She crosses her arms and forces her face blank. It's getting easier to do this, with how much practice she gets with the politicians. She knows nothing she says now will make a bit of difference; can't argue with emotion. "I'm lost now, Suvi. What are you expecting from me? What do you want me to do?"

Suvi opens her mouth, then closes it. Her flushed face turns another shade of red. There's her answer.

 _Nothing. Something. Anything. Everything.  
_

She probably has no freaking clue herself. Sara can relate, the act first and think later. She's made that mistake countless times with Peebee.

Sara turns away and makes way for her desk again, no longer hiding her need for a drink to soothe the headache coming on from this merry-go-round argument. The stress is getting to them; and Suvi isn't the only one possibly blinded by feelings. Sara's still hurting and still trying to process her own heartache too. She opens the drawer and takes out two glasses, pouring whiskey in both.

"I understand you're concerned for her, Suvi... But please understand that I'm concerned for _you._ You're right in that I didn't spend any time with her. Maybe I would trust her then. Maybe I wouldn't, and would think she's lying every which way instead. I don't think we'll ever truly _know_ until I take another look at that house."

Sara takes the glasses and walks back, offering one to Suvi, who reluctantly accepts it. Sara strains a weak smile. "And I know you won't like what you're about to hear, but the reality is: we have other priorities at the moment. The kids are already gone. I'll accept the consequences of my decision when the time comes; until then, Remy will remain on the Tempest." Hopefully she won't regret this decision. There's still no knowing what the exile is capable of, and Sara has her reservations regardless of how strongly Suvi feels about this 'Remy'.

"But you _will_ investigate?" Suvi pushes hopefully, finally calming down. She may be sweet, but she's definitely a firecracker; her temper is a force to be reckoned with.

Sara is honestly counting her blessings that she's actually somehow managed to accomplish this shit. It goes without saying that one does not piss off a Scottish woman and expect to come out alive. This isn't exactly the same as trying to talk a krogan down, but at least there's someone on this crew—equally passionate and inspired by emotion—that's willing to hear her out. Baby steps. Trial and error. _Baptism by fire._ She smiles reassuringly and nods, clinking their glasses together.

"Count on it."

-—-—-—-—-—-

Suvi's here.

Yay.

Much excite.

Wait. Is that _food?_

Remy props up on an elbow as she struggles to keep her mouth closed. Of course it does the _opposite_ of what she wants, and she discreetly wipes her mouth with the sheets—and fails—whenever saliva dribbles out. Maybe the key to making her mouth do what she wants it do is to think the opposite? She thinks about opening her mouth.

It opens.

Really.

 _Fuck_ life sometimes.

Remy tries to ignore the heat crawling under her cheeks from embarrassment when Suvi chuckles, setting the tray of food aside on the table. "It's just soft foods—pudding, and the like. No delicacy, but... Hopefully better than the IV?"

Anything is better than nothing. Remy is willing to drink Kadara's filtered water, even with that sulfur smell lacing it. She reaches for the fruit cup, ignoring the doubts in her mind; what if Suvi is trying to bribe her like this? Trick her into trusting again? Well, it's just like surviving Kadara. Keep up with the image like Remy is head over heels in love with her, but always wary for the knife in the back. She'll be careful with what she takes.

Peeling off the plastic wrap is a bigger challenge than she expected, just to bite down on the lip of the lid, but she eventually pulls it off. She inspects the fruits swimming in juice. Nothing seems out of the ordinary; just sliced peaches. She picks up the plastic and studies it for any holes, in case if there has been a syringe injection of some sort.

For some reason, she actually feels _guilty_ when she hears the disappointment in Suvi's voice. "You... Still don't trust me, do you?"

Remy doesn't have the heart to look up at her, so she idly plays with the plastic, thinking of her answer. She sets the fruit cup aside and motions for Suvi's omni-tool. _[Sorry. It's just habit now, nothing personal.]  
_

"Oh." Suvi smiles sheepishly as she nods. She glances at the fruit cup, shifting in her seat. "Would you like me to feed you?"

There are too many answers to that.

 _Hell no._

 _Fuck yes._

 _What's her game?_

It's like reading those antique goosebumps books and trying to pick which freaking direction to go. Even the most unsuspecting 'innocent' paths had some sort of weird contraption that resulted in a grisly death, and the obvious death traps resulted in...

Well.

Obvious death traps.

So instead of answering, Remy stares blankly. Suvi shifts awkwardly again. Even more so when the man on the other plinth groans. "Just snog already."

Suvi blushes a deep red, and though Remy isn't quite up to snuff with British slang—judging from his accent, anyways—she does recognize a flustered woman from a light year away. Her mouth instinctively curls in a lopsided grin. She tests what she _thinks_ snogging means by grabbing and gently pulling Suvi's wrist so she comes closer; she yelps and panics and covers Remy's mouth with her hand and—bingo, that's what snogging means.

"We want no such thing, Liam!" Suvi huffs, shooting straight up into sitting and pretending to be all prim and proper with the way she picks up the stupid fruit cup. Remy doesn't want to eat anymore. She wants fun. She wants to forget all this bullshit that keeps happening to her. She wants to feel normal.

Remy grabs Suvi's arm again, but this time to type another message—and sate her inner imp's craving for mischief. _[What if I said I want such a thing?]_

Suvi stares. Blink. Blink. No reaction? Come on... That's no fun.

But then she gets up from her chair, and nearly trips over her feet rushing out the med-bay.

For the first time in a _long_ time, Remy finally laughs. Genuine, full out, belly aching laughter. Her grin comes naturally when she—surprising even herself—flips a thumbs up and then mocks a fist bump with the man on the other plinth.

Most importantly of all, now she knows his name too.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Music, Sara's lifeblood. All the problems in the world melt away when she gets the time to go through the archives and finds a new one to sink her teeth into. She should've done this sooner; it'd have saved her some whiskey. She sticks the headphones on and wanders around the ship, dance-walking—if that's a thing—and focusing on nothing but the beat.

It helps distract her, keep her calm, honing on a single thought rather than a million others. She can't wait to fall asleep to this song tonight. Maybe then she'll actually _stay_ asleep, and actually have a good night's rest, for once. She's still mulling on their next move. Her mind starts to wander.

 _Listen to the music._

Maybe then it'll give her brain a chance to tune out and breathe and be of sound mind and make a sound decision. Sound and tune, her favorite words. Focus on that.

But what about the turian survivors? If she slacks off tonight, maybe they won't survive 'til tomorrow. Maybe—

Okay.

Clearly this is not going to rest until she lays it to rest. She sighs as she slides her headphones off and loops them around her neck, making way for the cargo bay, pondering on who to take with her. Drack has aggression to take out, but after their spat and her honest to god _grounding_ him... Well. Probably not a good idea to take an angry krogan with her.

Probably not a good idea to keep an angry krogan near the exile too.

Sara rakes her hand through her bangs, massaging her forehead to soothe the coming headache. Peebee is another obvious no. Liam... Oh, right. He's an even more obvious no. Jaal is likely upset about the children too. There's always friction between her and Cora with this inheriting Pathfinder bullshit getting in the way; besides that, Cora's been the designated executive officer with Suvi being... Unavailable. At least Vetra can always be counted on.

Jesus. All of _one_ fucking crewmate can be trusted to have her back. Sara counts her fingers as to how many are on the Tempest in total; 11, including SAM of course.

And then it hits her.

Turian survivors. Vetra.

 _Duh?_

Sara pings a request to suit up with Vetra and Jaal; even if he's emotional, at least he's open about it and stays focused on the mission. As she passes by the med-bay, more thoughts needle their way to the forefront of her mind. Guilt too. Sometimes she can't help but wonder if there is such a thing as making the 'right' decision; perhaps being a leader means being willing to _live_ with the decisions made, and the consequences that come with it.

Sara reluctantly enters the med-bay, giving a courteous nod to Lexi when she whips around to see who it is; fair enough, considering what happened with Drack. Sara gives a casual salute to Liam and heads over to him first, wary of whether or not she should approach the exile who's currently burning holes in the back of Sara's head.

"Hey champ, how you holdin' up?" She smiles when she catches Lexi rolling her eyes; the good doc's got interesting answers, no doubt.

"The usual," Liam shrugs, grinning mischievously. "Lexi said I'll be ready to walk in a week."

"Lexi said no such thing," Lexi grumbles under her breath. "Lexi remembers Lexi said no weight-bearing for three weeks."

"Tomayto, tomawto." Liam waves dismissively. Sara chuckles when Lexi buries her face in her hands. She's probably at her wits end, dealing with a new shitstorm everyday.

"With how often I have to treat you, I should be used to this." Lexi muffles in her hands. She rubs her eyes, massages her temples, pinches her nose bridge, and takes a deep breath. When she looks up, Sara and Liam chuckle at how utterly fed up Lexi looks; then a light bulb's goes off in her eyes. "Pathfinder, I propose we drop Liam off at the Nexus so that he may receive better treatment. With the rehabilitation equipment and dedicated physiotherapists there, he'll recover _much_ faster."

"Oh come on, I can't be _that_ bad that y'needa get rid of me, doc." Liam laughs. He stops laughing when Lexi's face falls flat, looking completely serious.

Sara grins. "Sounds like a plan." She swallows the mirth bubbling in her chest when he puts on his best puppy eyes, but she shakes her head. "As much as it sucks for you bud, and jokes aside, Lexi _is_ right. You've got—how many months was this again, Lexi?"

"It depends on how well—and _if_ —he'll follow his physio program; attention that I can't give all the time if I have more than one patient. Which happens _a lot_ with this team, by the way." The sneaky jab doesn't go unnoticed; both Sara and Liam roll their eyes. Being sassed by the doctor just comes with the package of being a soldier. "But it'll be at least 4-6 months; sooner, with the care he'll receive back on the Nexus."

Right. This'll be the easiest decision Sara gets to make this week. Her grin grows from ear to ear. "That's that, then."

"Come on!" Liam huffs exasperatedly, crossing his arms. He jerks his head to the exile. "I'm not going unless she's coming with me."

Ooh~ another easy decision to make! "Let's just dump all of Lexi's patients—" Sara stops halfway when chills surge down her spine, and goosebumps break out on her forearms as the hair on her nape stands straight. She glances over her shoulder and strains a smile when one of Remy's eyes glows an intense electric blue.

Okay then.

"Nevermind, just Liam then. Pathfinder's orders. Bye now!" Sara marches out the med-bay, shamelessly abandoning Lexi to deal with Liam's whining. She waves all carefree, shoving her free-spirited grin in his face as she playfully raps her fingers along the doors. "Have fun, buddy! Wishin' you all the best and a speedy recovery!"

"Traitor! I'll remember this, Pathfinder!"

"I'm sure you will." Sara laughs it off until the doors close. She walks down to the cargo bay to suit up and head to Havarl. The entire time, she can't erase the vivid image burned in her mind; there was _killing_ intent in that exile's eye. If only her implants reacted that way if she got pissed enough. It'd be a great scare tactic if she faced Tann with crimson eyes—instead of bloodshot ones, anyways.

Jokes aside, Sara's spent enough time with Remy to confirm one fact with utmost certainty.

She's definitely dangerous.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Peebee hides until SAM makes a ship-wide announcement of Cora being the XO of the Tempest. Good. The Pathfinder's gone and it's safe to roam. Peebee's first pit stop is the kitchen to grab some grub, and doesn't exchange any words with Drack who's face down on the table. Maybe he's sleeping.

No way is she poking a pissed off krogan anyways.

She's out before she makes too much noise and walks down the hallway to warm up her legs, stopping and staring at the med-bay doors. Suvi's face comes to mind. Guilt too. Peebee reluctantly enters the med-bay, hoping to make amends—in a roundabout way—to get to know the pirate for herself.

Unfortunately, Lexi's in here.

Peebee refuses to look anywhere near her direction though, making a beeline for the chair beside—what was her name again? Remedy?—the exile and plopping down. She smirks when Remedy rolls her eyes before they meet Peebee's. "Hi, Suvi's new best friend." she quips cheekily, hooking her ankles around the chair legs as she leans forward. "Heard you like tech too—Rem-tech specifically. You have any nifty remnant toys? I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Remedy stares. And stares. And stares. Is... She not gonna say anything?

"She needs to borrow your omni-tool to communicate, Peebee." Lexi calls out from her corner, and Peebee shudders. She hoped to stay far away from the doc's radar; now Lexi's probably compiling some sort of psych analysis and brainstorming all sorts of labels. "Ms. Kedar's brain surgery has... Impaired her ability to talk."

Brain surgery? This went to shit fast. Did Drack do that to her? Peebee will have to get all the dirt from... From who? No way is she talking to the Pathfinder anymore.

"But she can understand, right?" Peebee engages her omni-tool and warily offers her arm, but tries to act as casual as possible. She watches carefully for any signs of the exile turning on any tool of her own to avoid any malware upload. She waits for a new signal to pop up when Remedy's hand hovers over her arm, then sets up a temporary secure connection.

Nothing is left to chance.

Peebee's hand is gently pushed back to her, and she sniggers at the sassy attitude in the message.

 _[She can't understand jack shit. And I'm talking about the doc.]_

"Oh, I can tell I'm going to like you." Peebee teases, casting an amused look in Lexi's direction, who catches her glance and sighs.

"It looks like you have a new best friend too," Lexi quips dryly.

Peebee looks back when her wrist is taken again, and the exile's lopsided smirk is looking like that the feeling's mutual. She types another message. _[PB.]_

PB? Oh, she must've heard Lexi. Quite the Observer, isn't she? Peebee will be careful around this one; but not with the potential for horrible puns.

 _[You_ _asked about remnant toys. Do you have parts from an assembler, like it's legs? I'll trade you everything I've collected on Kadara next time we port there.]  
_

"Assembl—?" Peebee pauses. It clicks. Her eyes brighten and she smirks coyly. "I don't right now, but I can definitely get some. On—" she holds up one finger, reveling in the hope poorly masked in the exile's features. "—one condition." She thinks about it. "Two, actually."

Remedy narrows her eyes, but nods.

"I get to help you reverse-engineer them. Deal?"

Another nod. Remedy holds up two fingers, arching her brow inquisitively.

"I'm glad you asked, my new best friend!" Peebee's impish smirk widens. "Once you get your new legs, I either get to call you Remnant, Rem-tech, or Assembler."

Remedy looks up thoughtfully. Lexi groans. Peebee laughs when the exile snatches her forearm and types with ferocious determination. This should be good.

 _[Only if I get to assemble you an observer and call him Jelly.]_

"Oh," Peebee grins wickedly, "I can tell I'm going to love you."


	12. Chapter 12

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: Thanks for the continued support and for those leaving me gifts! Hope you continue to enjoy, or re-re-re-refind Remy in the future ;P

* * *

Suvi waits outside the door, thumb nervously rubbing along her palm as she worries her lip. Should she head inside? What can she even say? What does she _want_ to say?

Nothing.

Everything.

She's honestly at a loss with so much information to sift through, and she's aware that her emotions may very well be clouding her what she does or doesn't see. It's a blessing in disguise that the Pathfinder didn't toss her right off the ship for blatant insubordination and disrespect; a shameful act that Suvi can't afford to repeat again. There was enough of that on the Nexus, even after the revolt.

Sara and Lexi are right to worry. Their hearts in the right place. It's not like the behavior they've observed—both Suvi and Remy—hasn't been without it's red flags and evidence.

...But can't they have just a little faith?

Suvi nips her lip a little harder. She rubs her palm a little rougher. It's a question for herself now too, as she stares at the door. She still has no idea what she wants to do, but she knows she has to do _something._ Taking a deep breath, taking a step closer—a leap of faith, she inputs the security code and unlocks the door.

When they slide open, she puts on her best reassuring smile, faltering at the cutting eyes honing in on her. She takes a step inside and locks the door.

"Hello, Drack. How are you feeling?"

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Alright, that concludes the tests." Lexi takes a small ribbed stick out of Remy's mouth and sets it on a tray, sitting back on her chair with a clip board. "Your awareness of what's going on inside your mouth hasn't been severely impaired, so it's just coordination to form sounds. With time and practice, you'll eventually develop other areas of the brain to substitute certain functions. To start: let's try saying either buttercup or rocket ship. Both words work the lips, the tip of the tongue and the back of the tongue."

Yeah. Remy got all of that.

No she didn't.

Rocket ship is the obvious choice, though.

"Rrr..." Remy scowls, already disheartened by the effort this is going to take. A groan gurgles in the back of her throat. Her mouth is too slack. Her jaw refuses to move the way she wants it to; she can't even do simple exercises like running her tongue around her lips, or touching the roof of her mouth.

Giving up is not an option. Not after everything she's been through, and how far she's come; but she didn't come this far to only go this far.

"Aww-kuh..." Tongue to teeth. Tongue to teeth. Tongue to teeth. She can't. _T_ is so close and so far away. She tries to bite her teeth down just to express frustration, but can't do that either. What can she do? She can smack the look off the calm doctor's face, for one; but the _urge_ to burn bridges has to wait until after she gets her legs and makes her getaway.

Plus, she knows it's just the grumpy side thinking.

Furrowing her brows, she shakes her head and gives up when she just can't force her tongue to her teeth. She motions for Lexi's omni-tool, who starts setting the permissions. Remy's well aware that everyone—who's name isn't Suvi—have been taking precautions with what access they're giving.

They don't trust her.

It's... Comforting, actually, to know that she isn't the only one who's distrustful. It's not as suspicious as it would be if everyone were to kiss her ass, especially without asking for anything in return. PB saved herself in that regard.

When Lexi finally offers her omni-tool, Remy types her message. _[Can't we practice words I'll actually use?]_

"We can, but we also have to train your brain and use repetition to teach it how to use the same muscles and move them by using other neural pathways."

Oh sure! That totally makes sense.

Not.

Remy hopes she's giving an exasperated look, plunking on the omni-tool. _[What about names?]_

Lexi's lips press thin. "I suppose..." She stares at the message thoughtfully, then sighs. "It'll help you call out for whoever you'd like to talk to."

Sure. Let's go with that reason, as long as Remy doesn't end up saying the _worst_ name again. She nods to Lexi and writes the first name she'd like to practice. Remy wishes she could stick her tongue out, especially when Lexi looks like she _might_ be struggling not to smirk. "I'm not surprised. Which sounds do you have trouble with in this one?"

 _[U and V.]_

"Alright, you and I—"

Remy shakes her head, typing again. _[No, U and V. I is okay. I have trouble with ones where I gotta move my lips more.]_

Lexi blinks in confusion. Remy doesn't understand what the misunderstanding is, until she thinks about it. A light bulb goes off. _She_ misunderstood, going off half-cocked instead of letting Lexi finish. She chuckles weakly. At least laughing comes naturally; it was the only thing that helped her pull through the last time she had to go through extensive therapy.

 _[My bad, cut you off. Thought you were saying U and I, and_ _]_

She stops when the doors slide open. Her mouth instinctively curls into a smile without hesitation, nor thought.

"Soovvee..."

...

Now Remy really wishes she could stick her tongue out, especially when Lexi looks like she's _clearly_ struggling not to smirk.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Suvi smiles every time she glances over at Remy, now sleeping away after a _much_ excited dinner of just fruit cups and tea—from Suvi's own stash, of course. There will be time to experiment and see what she'll cultivate herself someday, hopefully. Remy seemed to take to the tea; maybe she'll be willing to taste test new kinds in the future?

It's something to look forward to—something to hope about.

Suvi scoots closer and rests her laptop on the bed, analyzing and writing a report on the data SAM sends from the Pathfinder's current endeavors in Havarl. Suvi's mouth curls into a smile whenever Remy's fingers brush against her hand, whenever she rests them on the sides of her laptop.

...Okay, to tell the truth, Suvi's the one brushing against Remy's fingers.

It's when they move and curl over her knuckles that obviously piques her curiosity, and she looks up at Remy's sleeping face; her features are anything _but_ peaceful. What is she dreaming about? Whatever it is, it doesn't seem to be pleasant.

Suvi rubs Remy's forearm, trying to rouse the engineer gently and ease the tightening grip. "Remy, wake up." she whispers softly, waiting. She rubs and coos and breathes warmth into Remy's palm, worry welling up when the engineer almost refuses to awaken. Suvi glances over her shoulder for Lexi; the doctor's still out on her much-needed break, hopefully catching up on sleep long overdue for her too.

Liam's watching with an eyebrow piqued in curiosity... And concern. "Need me to yell for Lexi?" he asks, but Suvi shakes her head.

"If she's sleeping, we shouldn't disturb her." Suvi looks back at Remy, digesting her conflicting logic; technically Remy shouldn't be disturbed too... But her jaw's flickering as if she's trying to clench her teeth. She looks like she's in pain now. Suvi rises from her chair and leans over, carefully grabbing Remy's shoulders and giving a slight shake. "Remy? Remy, wake up. You need—"

"Nnn..." Remy gurgles lowly, her eyes fluttering open a little too eagerly. Suvi lets go and stands back, confused by the glint in the engineer's normal eye. So there's nothing to worry about, right? "Nnnee... Duh... U... K, k, k-ih... Sss..."

Yes.

 _Definitely_ nothing to worry about.

Suvi stares. Remy smirks. Liam laughs. And Suvi leaves.

"Both of you are trouble," she teases, trying not to smile. And failing. "I'm getting Lexi."

"Uh oh~" Liam sing-songs. "C'mon, you know she's just going to put us to sleep with drugs again."

"You make that sound like a bad thing." Suvi quips lightheartedly, drumming her fingers along the frame as the doors slide open. She turns to wave goodbye, stealing a good look at Remy's eyes. A shiver rolls down her back from the electric look. Her feet carry her right out the med-bay, missing whatever it is Liam's saying, determined to find Lexi.

She can't erase the look burned into her mind.

-—-—-—-—-—-

New favorite thing to do to pass time: fluster Suvi.

Hands down, the easiest and most entertaining hobby Remy has left now. She already feels recharged and ready to go another round of the doctor's grueling speech therapy. Well, okay, maybe that's going a bit too far; if anything it'd just so that she can be able to say what she wants and fluster Suvi _faster._

"All in good fun, yeah?" Liam laughs along, giving a thumbs up; it falls with his smile. "Fair warning if you do like her though: don't play around. The Tempest protects it's own."

Jesus, he doesn't sound any different than the gangs on Kadara.

Remy dismisses the threat with a wave, using Suvi's laptop to type him a message. She adjusts the font size to be bigger and turns the computer towards him. _[I'm not afraid. I've heard a whole lot worse on Kadara when someone was saying 'hello' to me.]_

"Yeah, sure," he shrugs. "But you'll feel a whole lot worse if you cross anybody here." He turns on his other side, facing away from her. She hopes he can still feel her glare digging into his back. "Remember that, _exile._ We went through a whole lot of trouble pulling you out and that's thanks to Suvi. Thanks to me, too. Wouldn't be where I am if you didn't blow that place to hell and made it collapse."

Ugh. He's facing away from her on purpose, isn't he? Now he can't see the massive **ASSHOLE** on her computer screen.

...But at least this presents an opportunity to pass up on forcing out a thank you; and an opportunity to learn what transpired too. The last thing she remembers is an explosion, but lately there's been a whole ton of that.

 _Wonder why?_

Remy shakes it off and turns the laptop back towards her, letting Liam mumble and grumble whatever the hell he wants. That's fine. She's not expecting a royal treatment, so long as they aren't expecting one either. She's only staying here until they let her _out_ of here; and it better not be anywhere near the Nexus either. Not unless they want to see more fireworks.

Remy helps herself to reading the fresh reports pouring in from... Havarl? Where is that, even? It sounds familiar. She can't help but wonder if Suvi is going to come back for this laptop. It's her fault if Remy's not allowed to read all this data.

Not like she can, anyways, with a headache slowly resurfacing.

How long is recovery going to take? It already feels like centuries have passed, when it probably hasn't even been a week. Remy sighs dejectedly, engaging the laptop's signal access and manually inputs her frequency to the implants in her ears. The only way she can pass time is sleep; and she _suuuuure_ hasn't already gotten enough of that, of course not.

Another sigh. Remy connects to her frequency and runs a quick search on the hard drive for any music, which, yay, there is, but...

Why the hell is all of it piano?

Remy frowns as she runs another search for sound files, surprised to find a whole lot of recordings stemming from a folder titled _'_ _Nature'_ _._ Curious, she starts to explore, smacked with dozens more files organized precariously. _'_ _Catatumbo Lightning'_ immediately piques her interest and she opens the folder, her eyes light up with hundreds of pictures and videos on display. She quickly sets up the audio feedback so that it plays privately through her implant, intrigued by beautiful photos.

Where did Suvi get all these, though? Some of the other folders seemed specific to location, and those locations seemed specific to _earth._ Is she earth-born too, then?

Eager to see the phenomenon, Remy clicks on a video and scrolls while it loads, smiling at the pool of sound files all titled a numbered variation of _'_ _T_ _hunder'._ The screen brightens. The med-bay's doors slide open. Without thinking, she slams the laptop's lid down, smiling nervously when it's Suvi—who arches her brow in return.

Right. So maybe Remy shouldn't have reacted like she's afraid of getting caught. Doesn't help the suspicion factor; not that it matters anymore now.

"Lexi's almost done her break, she'll be here soon." Suvi says as she approaches, a subtle sly smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I forgot my laptop somewhere." Somewhere? It's like right freaking in front of her face. She knows that, right? "You wouldn't happen to know where it is, would you, Remy?"

Okay. It's literally—wait. She _does_ know it, right? It's under her nose. It's _in front of her._ In Remy's hands.

Yeah.

This is a fucking trap.

 _Revenge_ is what it is, it's screaming in those deceivingly innocent eyes. Well! Remy's not gonna fall for it! No sir—

"I might be inclined to set up your own laptop if you help me find mine..." Suvi offers pleasantly. This trap is about as obvious as it gets, just like her smirk.

And Remy thrusts Suvi's laptop up in the air for her to take it.

"Puh-luh-ee-ss?"

Suvi chuckles, nodding as she grabs her laptop. "Of course I will." She opens her laptop as she balances it on her forearm, the sly smirk disappearing in favor of a warm smile. It's hard to look away. "Oh, this... Catatumbo's lightning is certainly a riveting sight; it's an atmospheric phenomenon in Venezuela—on Earth, sorry—that only occurs over the mouth of the Catatumbo river. The storms occur roughly 140 to 160 nights per year, 10 hours per day and 280 times per hour."

She remembers this shit? Maybe it really meant a lot to her; the same way the ocean meant a lot to Remy, too.

Suvi looks up, the enthusiasm in her eyes burning bright. "I apologize for interrupting you earlier, would you still like to see the video you've opened?"

Uh, _yeah?_ What kind of question is that? That would be awe—wait, she's _apologizing?_ She's not mad that Remy was going through her things? She's not even _suspicious_ that Remy could've... Like... Done something to the laptop?

Not that Remy would.

Actually, she would.

But not that—okay, she doesn't even know where she's going with this herself, but she hasn't done anything. And she wouldn't. Maybe.

Remy gives up with herself—if only it were possible—and shakes her head to answer Suvi's question. She waves over and tries to reach for the chair, wanting to watch the video with Suvi, who makes herself back at home and sits beside Remy, leaning and resting her elbow on the bed. "Is it okay if I rest the laptop on your stomach?"

Is it okay?

 _OF COURSE IT'S OKAY._

Remy gets front view seats to something that just looks plain badass. She nods energetically, enthralled by the soft chuckles and sweet smell coming from Suvi's mouth. Not alcohol. Not juice either. It's that tea again, isn't it? Remy could go for some more, but she can't get greedy.

She can't get _attached._

Then the video plays. The thunder roars, and lightning dances, and chaotic waves lap against each other. It's stunning. Terrifying. Jaw-dropping. Remy stares, mesmerized by the storm, barely hearing Suvi's soothing chuckles above the private audio feedback. Remy's mouth instinctively curls into a smirk—trying to, anyways—as a reaction; not just to Suvi's chuckling...

But to the breathy awestruck whisper captured in the video.

 _"Wow..."_ A beat. _"Shite..."_

The video ends. Remy gives Suvi her best pleading look. Not that she needs to... Because Suvi is already searching through another folder.

"Wait until you see some seascapes during blue hour!"

No idea what blue hour is, but the promise of seascapes gets Remy going. She motions with her forearm and just barely holds herself back until Suvi offers her omni-tool. A part of Remy chastises for being so transparent, the other part doesn't give a flying shit. What the hell is Nexus going to do with her love of water? It's not like they can take away what's not around.

 _[If I get my own laptop, can you copy these files? I'll take anything with oceans and storms.]_

Whatever she says seems to get Suvi going too. Two transparent fools, so easy to see through and manipulate if one wanted to. Why? This isn't Kadara.

...But this ship is Nexus. It's worse. It is, right? It's not really a world of difference between the Tempest and Kadara, after all; both places have tried to kill her.

And she'll do whatever it takes to survive.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Lounging around the research station, waiting for the scientists to analyze data, Sara soaks in the view of the jungle before her. She's already gotten a recording of a plant growing and then twisting and then suffocating _itself,_ and sent it to Suvi. Morbid as it is, maybe it'll help science somewhere. It's insane that—without remnant technology to save the day—life on all these planets would progress... Only to destroy itself in the end.

Why would such a system thrive and survive in the first place?

If anything, there should be more planets like the Milky Way's moon and mars; maybe this is the initial clusterfuck—like some sort of dinosaur age—before all these planets will eventually be past the point to cultivating life. How old would that make Andromeda, then? The planets, anyways.

Sara leans on the railing, checking in on her teammates hanging around the forward station. Vetra seems relieved that they found the turian survivors, but it's hard to read her. It probably doesn't help that she exchanged words with some of the more uptight soldiers, offering help that was promptly denied; honor and all that. It's a wonder in itself that some people in the Initiative are still holding on to that concept, when survival should take precedence.

"Should check in on her," Sara mutters under her breath, pushing off the railing and heading down the platform to her team. She hears a familiar voice in the distance. When a pang snakes around her stomach the same time she smiles, she figures it out easily enough and sighs. She pretends she's doesn't hear a thing when she approaches Jaal instead.

"Ryder," Jaal nods curtly, one she returns. Whatever he says next fades away to her totally-not-interested-interest in Vetra's conversation with Peebee over an omni-link.

"An assembler's legs?" Vetra asks, confused. "I can get it for you, but how much of the leg do you need? Are we talking knees down or what?"

 _"Oh, just bring the whole bot back!"_ Peebee chimes back impatiently. _"I can salvage the parts for you to sell or keep it for my project."_

Right. The project nobody still has a freaking clue about. Even Sara.

...But at least this is a sign that Peebee's sticking around, right? She wouldn't be requesting things of others otherwise. Well, she would, but she still has to stay long enough to _get_ what she needs.

"Alright, Peebee." Vetra sighs in resignation. She looks over at Sara. "I'll see what I can do and ask the Pathfinder if we can get you—"

 _"No! Don't tell her it's for me."_ This doesn't sting. Not at all. Sara's heart isn't _in_ her fucking stomach. This doesn't sting. _"Technically, it's not anyways. It's for the pirate."_

The pirate? Remy? What the heck do they need legs fo—

Oh.

 _Oh._

How the hell are they going to make _that_ work? Now Sara's curious. That's all there is to it, nothing else. Not one bit.

Vetra's mandibles flicker, but she stays silent as she stares at Sara. The Pathfinder waves dismissively and thumbs at the remnant ruins in the distance, shrugging and nodding. She still has no idea as to how Peebee's roped into this; clearly Vetra doesn't either, but that's just what it's like when it comes to dealing with the restless asari.

 **Everything** is an unknown.

"Okay," Vetra starts, sucking in a breath. "I'll figure something out. You'll get your assembler."

 _"Just make sure you don't damage anything, okay?! It'll be useless otherwise. And_ _—"_

"I'll make sure." Vetra drawls as she rolls her eyes. "Disconnecting now." She cuts the link before Peebee continues, and approaches Sara. Great. Time for drama. "I'm not going to ask what that was about." Or not. Thank the turian god _—_ if there is one. "But we still have a problem."

"We do?" Sara's brows furrow, and she follows where Vetra's pointing. The remnant ruins, the same place Sara pointed to a minute ago. "Okay... And...?"

"How are we supposed to bring back a _whole_ bot—that wants to kill us—without damaging it?"

Sara stiffens. She thinks about it. Her head drops dejectedly as she groans. "Why are things never easy with Peebee?"

-—-—-—-—-—-

"C'mon, doc," Liam sulks, pointing with an accusatory look shot at Remy. "She gets a laptop and premium hotel service. Where's all that for me?"

Remy grins. It's coming much easier with more and more practice; and the best part is that she doesn't have to think about this one. It just comes _naturally._ She plunks away on her new toy, playing it nonchalant and pretending she doesn't see or hear Liam's whining; but she can't stop grinning.

"I'm sure you'll receive all of that once we drop you off at the Nexus," Lexi sighs from her terminal. "Otherwise, ask Suvi the next time she comes here."

Lexi's bored tone sounds like she's already been through this a hundred times before and expects this sort of attitude; does that suggest that Liam's prone to injury and stays here often? Is it due to recklessness, or clumsiness? The Initiative wouldn't tolerate or hire someone who's clumsy. Would they for recklessness, though? Remy's here, after all, and there were plenty of psych evals to pick up on such a blatantly clear trait.

Then again, the Initiative's plan to travel to Andromeda screamed _crazy._ Of course it's going to attract crazy—or desperate—people.

So which one is Liam? Lexi? Suvi? Remy's certain she's the worst of both worlds; crazy enough to buy a one-way ticket, desperate enough to buy in the first place.

Remy's mind wanders as she scrolls through the bountiful folders of stunning phenomenons on Earth that she could only ever _dream_ of witnessing. And here she thought she traveled a lot. If work provided Suvi the means to roam the world, then Remy is in the wrong profession. Case and point right now, considering Suvi gets to hang out on a ship and explore this new galaxy.

Something pings in Remy's ear, and her attention is drawn to a box popping up on the corner of her screen—a message from Suvi. Remy smiles at what she reads.

 _[Look for the folder that says 'Belt of Venus', a lot of my favorite shots are in there. You'll probably like the 'Supercells'. Most terrifying but thrilling storms of my life!]_

Come on. That's not fair. How the hell is Remy supposed to choose? _Obviously_ she's going to go for one that gets the heart racing, especially since she's never pegged Suvi to be a storm enthusiast and chaser too—among all the other things she's chasing. It makes sense now, though. Suvi's running straight into— _for_ —trouble every time she visits the med-bay, studying the storm from a safe distance.

Remy thinks on that. Shakes her head. Smiles. She's not the storm. She's always been the chaser.

So what does that make Suvi?


	13. Chapter 13

**The Lucifer Effect** **  
**Author's Note: And thank you for the R &R, ShadowBroker11! I know this is very slow-burn, but I hate rushing and all the ideas in my head sound like they'll be one sentence until I get to writing it. There is certainly a lot of silliness and steaminess planned for these two though! I'm hoping to crank it up next chapter, but we'll see how long my ideas actually are once they're down lol. Hope everybody enjoys nonetheless and have a lovely day!

* * *

Tea and food. Heaven and hell, a double-edged sword.

Because now Remy needs to go to the bathroom.

She tries to ignore it at first, that subtle discomfort. Then it starts to burn. Then it's like evil wizards are casting a fucking curse on her bladder and are summoning gremlins to beat the shit out of it with sticks. She glances over at the doctor plunking away at her terminal, as always, wondering how to ask for this favor in such a way that she'll still retain her independence and dignity.

 _There is no such way._

Her one hand is out of commission. She's got stitches in her head. She still doesn't have any legs or a means to transport herself; worst of all, she _really_ wants a shower, and has no idea if she can or can't. Only one way to find out. Remy waves exaggeratedly to catch Lexi's attention, who glances over with a brow arched. The doctor makes her way over, offering her omni-tool to be typed on. "Would you like to practice my name next?"

Ugh.

 _[Forget names, doc. I gotta **go.** You got a bathroom nearby? A wheelchair? A shower?]  
_

Lexi stares thoughtfully. She's not jumping with answers; that's not a good sign. Then she sighs; definitely a bad sign. "We do have a bathroom and showers, yes, but we don't have a wheelchair on hand. We aren't even stocked with crutches."

"Aww, crutches! Why didn't I think to ask?!" Liam groans, but it goes ignored as the women roll their eyes.

There has to be a solution to Remy's predicament. She worries her lip as she types. _[Is there anyone that can carry me? Biotics or the old-fashioned way, I don't care.]_

"I could—with biotics, and your permission. I can also assist in the shower and make sure your incision remains covered." That's tempting. And it's logical, and reasonable, and a ton of other things that all result in stripping what little dignity Remy _no longer_ has left anyways.

Besides, it can't get any worse than walking around Kadara without any pants.

And she'll never forget how she was a hooker in the next hour.

Remy bites the bullet and nods, watching carefully as Lexi works to clear the area and turn the IV off. This is not going to be fun, but... The last time she had her stubborn fits in a hospital, she only made things harder for herself and stalled healing progress. She wants to get out of here as soon as possible.

She wants to feel water on her skin; water that won't sooner _burn_ her damn skin off, like Kadara.

Remy holds on to that hope, focusing on nothing else but the promise of water. Dignity be damned. But when the doors slide open, and the daily expected visitor makes her daily expected visitation, Remy grabs Lexi's forearm and gives her pleading eyes that hopefully say: _after_ Suvi leaves. She doesn't need to see or know about this.

It was the hardest part for Sophie to witness her being trucked around in a wheelchair; forget being biotically—awkwardly—carried through an unknown ship.

...A ship Remy will get to learn the layout of once she gets out of this med-bay. There's another positive to hold on to. She'll take anything she can get.

"Good morning, Remy!" Suvi cheerfully greets with that infectious smile that always makes it hard to look away. Remy returns it as best as she's able to, inwardly thanking Lexi when the doctor pretends to busy away and head back to her work desk. Then Remy's eyes fall to the steaming cup in Suvi's hands.

 _No..._

"I've brought you a different kind of tea to try!" _No!_ "It's a cultivar originating in Sumatra and—" _stop right there._ Sumatra? She's been to the Indonesian islands too? If she says she used to surf next... "—this one's my personal favorite. Would you like to try?"

 _NO!_

Remy nods as enthusiastically as she can manage. She ignores the way Lexi inhales sharply, but throws a glare that screams: _"don't you dare say anything."_

How is she supposed to say no with those bright puppy eyes Suvi's giving her?

Wait. Remy's a pro at saying no. This should be a piece of cake. It _is_ a piece of cake. In fact, it's so easy, that she's going to say no right now.

But those puppy eyes are—

 _ **NO!**_

Tongue to the roof of the mouth, start with _n._ She's got the _o_ no problem. Tongue to the roof of the mouth. N. N. _N!_

...Ah, screw it.

What's the worst that can happen, after everything that's already happened in Remy's life? She needs this little pocket of joy to hang on to and remind herself that there are still plenty of reasons to keep living in this hellish nightmare. It's only a nightmare because she's calling it one, though; an easy fix.

Just change the label.

And maybe some underwear after this.

Suvi walks around the other side of the plinth and sets the tea down, ready to help bring the bed up. She already knows where all the freaking buttons are and which one does what—and how they're all on Remy's injured side. Not that she can't just push the buttons herself, but Lexi's here; she'll lecture Remy to death if she uses her healing hand.

Remy motions for the omni-tool as her bed slides up, trying to keep her mind off the burning sensation down below, and her eyes off the steaming cup beside her. _[One question. Two, depending. Did you visit Sumatra? If you did, which part did you like more: North or West?]_

Suvi blinks, holding the dreaded tea in both her hands. "I did travel there, yes. How could I not? Lake Toba is the largest volcanic lake in the world." A beat. "Well, 'was' by now, probably." Oh, right. It's weird remembering how far away they are... "But to think that a cataclysmic explosion once altered temperatures across the planet to such a degree that it eradicated existing global population? Something of that magnitude certainly warrants study; did you know fire literally meets water in it's extreme depths? And—"

Remy throws her hand up in surrender as her head lulls back, groaning in disappointment. _Of course._ How could she dare ask such a question to someone who unequivocally loves observing nature? Did the 100+ copied folders not make that point abundantly clear? Her enthusiasm shrivels and she dejectedly types in the omni-tool. _[Did you at least look in the West's direction?]_

"Oh," Suvi chuckles, nodding sheepishly. "I'm sorry for getting carried away there." Just answer the question. _Come on..._ "I mean, backpacking the Banana Pancake Trail sounded appealing—"

Why is she talking about backpacking when there is something _much_ better?

"—as I heard a lot of great things about treading off the beaten path, but..." She shrugs, smiling when Remy visibly deflates. "Let me guess: the waves? I remember hearing—"

Hearing, not doing, _ugh!_

"—that it has some of the best spots around for skilled surfers. Are you asking because of that?"

 _[YES. What kind of question is that?!]_ Remy wishes there were actual keys to slam down on and show her frustration. Her mouth hangs agape when Suvi simply laughs away at this horrible, _horrible,_ sin. _[Just so we're clear, West Sumatra beats North any time and any day of the week.]_

"Mm~ I don't know... I think that's up for debate." Suvi smirks innocently, but there's a fucking devil hiding behind that smile.

 _[If you want to stay friends, there is no debate.]_

"Oh, is that so?" Suvi lilts all daintily; she doesn't just ask for trouble, she enjoys _being_ trouble too. And instead of gifting the blasted dreaded tea, she heads for the exit instead. "Well, I suppose this is the end of our friendship, then."

 _Seriously?!_

"It's been a pleasure getting to know you, Remy. I hope you have a lovely day."

 _Fuck,_ it was just a bluff! The waves in the West weren't _as_ good as everywhere else she's surfed; but it still beats the North.

The West doesn't beat Suvi, though.

Remy thinks about waving and—oh, the steaming tea's leaving too... Well, that's that then! She's feeling pretty confident she can fix this. Maybe. She swiftly takes her laptop, typing a message in the largest font possible; she knows Suvi's going to turn around and do that little coy smile every time she leaves. And she does. And she laughs.

 _[I WILL WIN THIS DEBATE.]_

"We'll see about that soon, won't we?"

Remy gives a thumbs down. "Soovee..." She grins; it's becoming easier all around. She bounces her thumbs down. "W-we...Wi-ih..."

And here comes the landslide.

She tries not to lose it to frustration, ignores the concerned look Lexi gives, frowns at the amount of effort it takes... And calms when Suvi returns, slipping a hand over Remy's and squeezing firmly. Her first instinct is to pull away, but the encouraging smile grounds her, _forces_ her to stay. Pride wavers as shame and incompetence buries her. Out of all the things she could suck at, and she sucks at talking. At least it's not breathing? That's the only positive she can think of.

...It's not enough in the face of overwhelming negatives.

This is pathetic. _She's_ pathetic.

Remy falters and looks away, defeated. Suvi squeezes again, her voice warm and soothing. "Don't give up, keep trying. It **will** come with time and practice. Just like surfing."

Will.

The one word responsible for tripping Remy and making her fall in her own pit. Suvi sounds so fucking confident—looks that way too. There's not a speck of doubt in her voice, in her grip, in her eyes; worst of all, it's not the kind of confidence that borders on arrogance. It's certainty, it's fact. It's cruelty is what it really is. Remy's _tired._ She doesn't want to keep trying.

What for?

Let it crumble, let everything fall. Every day has been all about survival, and survival doesn't allow dreaming.

She doesn't want to practice, she doesn't want time.

"Remy." Determination floods Suvi's eyes. Sheen eyes. "I know that look. I've _made_ that look; saw it everyday in the mirror." It's easy for her to hope when she has full fucking function, because at least she can work to fulfill her hopes. Remy has nothing. "Trust me when I say it'll get better. You have to hang on and have faith that it _will_ get better. It already is." _How?_ "You're safe here. We won't ever let you fall or leave you behind; you don't have to survive anymore. Just take it one day at a time."

Lexi's staring. So is Liam. Remy hates it, hates that she has so many people looking, _expecting_ her to put on a smile and buy Suvi's pile of garbage in a heartbeat. If it was as easy as flicking a switch and changing her train of thought, she would have done it already. She's been trying all along, trying just like the last time she had to go through this bullshit.

First she had to learn how to walk.

Now she has to learn how to talk.

Remy sighs, conceding with a nod, just so that they all stop staring and expecting. She pulls away from Suvi's grip—ignoring the part of her that's already wanting that soft warmth again—ready to erase her message on the laptop to type another; not that she has to. She just can't stand seeing how easily she's fallen down, when a minute ago she was cocky and fired up.

Suvi wards her hand away from deleting the message. She points to it instead, bolding the dreaded word. "Tell yourself this when that one voice tries to keep you down."

 _[I **WILL** WIN THIS DEBATE.]_

-—-—-—-—-—-

Lexi watches over her patient with great concern, but takes great care not to show it as she assists Remedy as _little_ as possible; it's easy to tell that independence means a lot to this one. Lexi sets up a bench in the showers, then uses her biotics to lift the chair Remedy's sitting on until she's just around the corner and within reach of bars to pull on and help transfer herself over.

"Don't start your shower just yet, I'll be right back with protective coverings so your bandages don't get soaked." Lexi waits until Remedy nods, troubled by how dejected it is. Hopefully this woman won't do anything intentional to harm herself. Suicide watch is the last thing Lexi ever wants to order.

...But she can't become attached the way Suvi has; no doubt Remedy would never allow herself to get attached to a doctor either. Not when they've likely come to symbolize everything that's gone wrong in her life.

Goddess, this has become quite the mess.

Lexi bites back a sigh as she quietly takes the chair away. "I'll need just a minute."

And it's going to be the shortest minute of her life.

The second she's out of the bathroom, she walks as quickly as she can—while maintaining the facade of cool confidence. There's no such thing, not with this. She's been a part of too many medical emergencies than she can count, but she will _never_ get used to the ones where someone hurts themselves, desperate to feel pain greater than the one tearing them apart inside.

With a mind fractured from surgery—and the meld—the risk is greater. Every part of Lexi starts screaming to move faster, and she tears through the med-bay for plastic coverings to seal the dressings and repel water. She should've grabbed these earlier.

She would have, if Remedy wasn't already trying to get out of bed. To think she seemed willing to still drink even more blasted tea... Reckless!

"You okay?" Liam calls out, startling her. She gasps and whirls around, chuckling wryly when his brow arches in confusion. "Uh... Did you forget I'm a permanent resident here?"

"Sorry," she shakes her head. "I was lost in thought." She waves her coverings and dismisses his growing concern with a wave, making a quick exit. "Don't do anything reckless, Liam!" The first thing he's going to do is something reckless _._ "Stay in bed and call for me if you need anything!" And he's certainly not going to follow doctor's orders.

Reckless. Reckless patients _everywhere._ Will it ever end?

Some days Lexi can't help but wonder if she's the one that's the most insane on the crew. She probably is, with everything she's seen and what she's had to deal with.

Rushing back to the bathroom, Lexi knocks on the corner as she tries to announce as calmly as possible. "I'm back, Ms. Kedar." She steals a peek, relief flooding her when she sees the woman waiting patiently on the bench, her hospital gown taken off. Lexi steps inside and starts taping the coverings over the bandages, observing Remedy's indifference to her presence, even in what would otherwise be deemed an intimate setting. Not to the exile. This procedure doesn't appear to be anything new to her.

If only there were charts Lexi could read on as to how Remedy was like as a patient, back in the Milky Way. As Lexi starts wrapping the injured hand, she notices a small tattoo wrapping around the side of the ribs, just below the exile's breast. A typical healthy heartbeat line, with a clever tidal wave connecting in the middle of the rhythm strip—a surfer's heartbeat. Below it are three simple words: _Sun. Sand. Sea._

Lexi smiles. "Surfing meant that much to you?" She gestures with a point of her chin when Remedy's brows furrow in confusion, who looks down, reaching across her torso with her good hand, running along the tattoo. The implant showing through her other eye glows a bright blue. Her mouth flickers in a subtle smile for a fleeting second, then disappears as she puts on an apathetic face, shrugging. The glow fades.

Uh huh. This is how Lexi knows they _won't_ be the best of friends. Just comes with being a doctor.

Regardless, at least she has a few ideas on how to care for Remedy's mental health; ideas to bounce with Suvi, since she's so far the only one that seems to be chipping away at the exile's barrier. If only there wasn't the risk of Suvi being dragged down with all of this. As if Lexi didn't have _enough_ patients to worry about...

Reckless. Reckless patients _everywhere._ It won't ever end.

Ripping off the tape, coverings secured, Lexi steps back and takes a leap of faith. "I'll be around the corner if you need me, and I'll check in every now and then." She wishes there were a curtain to give more privacy, but Remedy still seems like she doesn't care. Hopefully that's because of experience and not depression.

Remedy shoos her away with a wave of her hand, rolling her eyes at the doctor's schpeel. _Definitely_ experience. She reaches for the knobs and turns the water on, and, try as she might to cover up how she truly feels, her body betrays her and relaxes significantly.

Lexi smiles as she leaves the exile to it, bringing up her omni-tool to chart everything that's transpired in the last hour, from progress to red flags.

The whole time, she wonders if she should intervene and save Suvi from inevitable heartbreak.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Holy fuck.

WATER.

When's the last time she showered? Feels more like over _1000_ years ago. It's a surprise she hasn't made anyone wilt and die from her stench.

This is exactly what Remy needs. It's taking all of her to swallow the bubble of laughter in her chest and play it _cool,_ when she's anything but. She's so fucking hot she could literally set something on fire. Not intentionally.

Maybe.

This water isn't hot enough, even though it's scalding. That's okay. She wants to feel it. She wants to _remember_ it. Even if this isn't the same as the sea—the stark opposite with temperature and flow alone—it's still WATER. It's not melting off her freaking skin like how she's seen Kadara's water chew through _vehicles._ No way was she going skinny dipping there. That was probably the most heartbreaking of all, seeing that beautiful turquoise water every single day, knowing she'd die if she so much as dipped a finger in there.

And now she's here.

And _water._

Remy could honestly kiss Suvi for this. If that woman didn't pump her with tea and fruit cups, she wouldn't be here. And she gets a nifty look at all this sleek technology too; the showers can still use an improvement, though. Maybe they'll let her upgrade it once she gets the go-ahead to use her other hand—she can argue that working will double as physiotherapy too, if Lexi tries to stonewall her.

Maybe they'll let her have a tour of the ship too. So far, she really likes what she sees.

NOT that she's thinking of staying, because _of course not,_ because... Well. Nexus.

Besides, she doesn't know what their intentions are with her, yet. She can't stay if that krogan stays—not for her safety, but _his._ If he lays a hand on her again, he's going to have another prosthetic. Not that this bravado is actually backed up by anything now that she's missing all her weapons, but she'll figure something out; surely the remnant legs will be packing lots of ways to hide something lethal in them.

But even more important than _all_ of that... Is that they better be waterproof.

Or she'll cry. She really will.

Nothing will ever make her change her mind and extinguish her love of water. She looks down at her stumps.

 _Not even them._

By the way, has she mentioned: WATER?!

-—-—-—-—-—-

Suvi tosses and turns in her bed, her mind racing with hundreds of thoughts. 80% of them are about a certain engineer. She sighs as she rolls again, reaching for her datapad in hopes she'll tire her mind out somehow. A cold shower works best to flush everything out—but she knows Remy's off to use them.

Wonder if she's excited about the water?

Suvi smiles. She'll never forget the way the look Remy made over their little 'debate', and how the one eye glowed a bright blue—not terrifying, but endearing. It seems that every time she feels strongly about something, the implant reacts; the easiest sign to tell whether Remy is getting riled up, good or bad.

It's astonishing, really—after everything that's happened to the engineer, she still has a spark of life in her. It's hard not to be curious, hard not to be drawn to it to see what's the driving force behind the door Remy's hiding behind. Random as it is, it's hard not to wonder what she brought with her to Andromeda too. Probably surf boards, even if she can't use them; much like how Suvi's brought her father's antique tools.

What inspired Remy's love of surfing, though? What does she love about it? How did it start, when was the first time, how long has she been surfing? Simple questions that torment Suvi endlessly. 80% is inching it's way to 90% now. She's looking forward to their 'debate', because maybe it'll be the chance to get answers without making Remy feel like she's being interrogated.

It's been a long time since Suvi's wanted to get to know someone as much as she wanted to get to know _everything_ in the universe.

Right. She's not going to be napping any time soon, is she? Suvi grunts as she swings her legs off the bed, pushing herself up into sitting. She closes her eyes and listens to the showers beside the crew quarters. She hears Lexi talking, muffled by the door. The wry tone is telling though, and Suvi's smile widens when Remy barks out a laugh.

Good. She needs it.

She needs all the support to win the debate in her head.

Suvi's determined to give Remy a chance to feel and remember why she came to Andromeda. Everyone who's braved this journey deserves to remember that, to go to sleep with the same dream they had before they climbed into stasis pods. Nobody came here with the intent to be a pirate and fight each other. That has to mean something, right? People can't have forgotten that, no matter how tough things have gotten. That desire's still there. It _has_ to be. All the sacrifices made can't have been for nothing.

Suvi lays back down on her bed, pondering, smiling. No. They don't deserve to go to sleep with the same dream. They deserve to _live_ that dream and make it a reality.

And she's going to make sure Remy's dream comes true.

Suvi tosses and turns in her bed, her mind racing with all the right reasons. 100% of them are about a certain engineer.


	14. Chapter 14

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: Always appreciate it, thank you for the support and for taking the time to R&R DRWPJT :) Slightly shorter chapter this time, but hope everybody enjoys it nonetheless. Also hope everyone has a lovely long weekend and have fun at school, if you're starting it!

* * *

"I have pictures of Lake Toba and tribal villages, and I have tea originating from the _North_ part of Sumatra. What do you have?"

Nothing. Suvi knows that. She can tell just from the frustration engraved all over Remy's face. This is definitely one of the most amusing discourses she's had in a long time.

 _[Okay. But.]_ Yes. That alone screams 'nothing'. _[This isn't fair._ _If_ _I knew I'd have a debate 600-some years in the future, I'd have pictures of the waves and tea too.]_

"There wasn't any tea in the West, North produced and supplied the entire island. West didn't even have any food. You know where that came from too, don't you?" Suvi points out cheerfully, biting her tongue to suppress the bubble of laughter in her chest. Remy looks totally heartbroken. She _knows_ she's lost this debate. It's time to go in for the kill. "So are you going to admit that you have no evidence?"

 _[I'm not admitting anything. West. Is. Best. End of story.]_

"My, my," Suvi chuckles, trying to stop herself from smirking. And failing. "However am I supposed to challenge that when emotion is the winning factor?"

 _[No challenge.]_ Remy grins mischievously as she treks out replies one after another; her typing has gotten much faster and smoother. _[Just agree with me. Simple.]_

"Could I not encourage you to do the same?"

 _[You could. But I won't.]_

"Even if I have proof?"

 _[ **Especially** because you have proof.]_

Suvi laughs—full out, belly aching laughter. The cheeky nonchalance this woman has is almost on par with Gil's. Those two would be a powerhouse team, a sight Suvi wishes she could see. She'll have to see if she can catch a time when Gil's free and willing to come meet a fellow engineer; it would certainly perk Remy's spirits up, especially if she'd get to talk shop—and sass—with him.

Yet another idea tabled for the future. Suvi's getting better at this.

Remy's getting better at something else.

 _[I like your laugh. Smiles too. They're infectious, lights everything up.]_

"O-oh." And this is the part that stops Suvi. She ignores her warming cheeks, not oblivious to the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Her gaze falters and drops from Remy's as she shifts in her spot. "Thank you, that's kind of you."

" _L-L-Lll_ _..._ "

Suvi's head whips up, hope blooming; it's always like this whenever Remy tries, no matter how much she so obviously hates this. The frustration always manifests itself and shows through her implant. Suvi grabs Remy's hand, keeping it soldered to the bed so that it's nowhere near the laptop. But just when it looks like she's going to try, she gives up instead, closing her eyes as she squeezes Suvi's hand.

"You can do this," Suvi whispers; a sense of desperation threatens to overwhelm her when Remy shakes her head. "Yes you can. Just try, _please._ Neither of us are in a rush. I'm staying right here." She kneels so that she's lower than Remy, holding on to the hand the whole time. Suvi brings it to her mouth, breathing warmth into it much like how she did when she didn't know if this woman would ever wake up.

Now, facing another unknown, she remains steadfast and patient, throwing faith into the wind. "You can do this," she repeats, closing her eyes when they start to burn. "Tell yourself that; you will win the debate, remember? Please don't fight yourself, Remy. You _can_ do this." She waits, and waits, and waits, holding her breath as she listens to whatever will come out of Remy's mouth, wincing when her hand hurts from the gradual crushing grip.

Her heart wrenches when she hears a tiny muffled cry.

" _Suvi..._ "

Instinct takes over. Suvi comes up to hug Remy. Never before has someone clung so hard like they're afraid to be torn away. Suvi squeezes her eyes shut even tighter to stop herself from crying too; bloody reaction tears. She rubs soothing circles along Remy's back, her chest aching when Remy hides her face in Suvi's neck, gradually dampening her uniform. She hates this. Hates that Remy's— _still_ —suffering like this. Suvi tries to keep herself up with her hand on the headboard; the last thing they need now is her falling ungracefully and injuring Remy even more.

But all that means nothing when she hears a mumble vibrate against her skin.

"T-ay-nk you." A beat. Remy groans, shaking her head, trying again. "Tanks." And again. "T-tttt...Aynks." She huffs. " _F_ _uck._ "

Suvi chuckles. "It's a start. You **will** get there, Remy. I know it."

" _...Tanks._ " Another pause. Remy growls in frustration, and Suvi rushes to comfort.

"I like tanks more than thanks anyways."

She smiles triumphantly when Remy laughs.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Sara sighs as she takes off her helmet, stripping the pieces of her armor with Gil's help. "Thanks," she mumbles tiredly, idly heading off when he pats her between the shoulder blades; clear to go. She heads straight for the showers, letting Jaal and Vetra deal with hauling the assembler to the lift—and to Peebee.

Sara's done enough anyways; she probably got a week's worth of cardio, running around until she got close enough for SAM to shut the bot down. Hopefully the assembler isn't a defect or something, or that no circuit was fried during the shut down. She can't even bear the thought of going through all that again.

Trekking to the bathroom, she reaches behind to undo the zipper of her suit, peeling out of it as she steps into the stalls.

And bumps into a bench.

"What the?" Curious, Sara kneels to inspect it. It looks inviting. She's not sure who brought this here or why, but she's honestly so freaking exhausted that she can't even stand. Shivers roll up her back when she sits on the cool bench, and reaches for the shower knobs, bracing herself for the initial blast of cold water; it's lukewarm instead. She definitely needs to thank whoever was just here.

"This is heaven," she groans in content, letting her head lull forward so that the water hits her neck, cascading down her back. She lazily washes herself, growing more sluggish by the minute. If hot water wasn't rationed too, she'd just turn around, lay down, and fall asleep on this bench.

"Ugh..." she mutters, reluctantly shutting off the showers and pushing herself up into standing. She needs to get out of here before she wakes up everywhere _but_ her bed. Again. Something tells her this time she won't magically appear in the bridge, waking up to Suvi's cup of coffee. Sara steals a towel and leaves her belongings behind for now, wrapping the towel to cover herself and trudging to her quarters. It takes great effort just to lift her hand and open the door via her omni-tool.

But the end is near. Her bed is in sight. A sleepy smile whisks across her face as she plods over, loosening the towel and letting it slither off her body. She jumps on the bed and lands on her stomach, sinking in pillowy _heaven_ and melting in complete bliss. She doesn't even care if her ass is out in the air. She moves her head to free her mouth, closing her eyes as she takes in a deep breath.

Something is still missing to make this perfect.

"SAM, could you turn on the music please? Just keep the volume low."

 _"Yes, Pathfinder. Shall I enable privacy mode as well? Cora asked to meet with you."_

A shudder rolls down her spine at that. "Please tell me you've told her I'm already asleep."

 _"She asked while you were in the showers. I have not updated her on your current status as I sensed you wished to have some time for yourself; enabling privacy mode now."_

Sara groans, relaxing even more once the music turns on as well. She smiles clumsily as her whole body sinks in the mattress. "You're a godsend, SAM. Thank you."

 _"You are welcome, Pathfinder."_

...Something is still missing to make this perfect. A massage would be ideal; but not from anyone. A painful pang nestles in her chest.

 _"Shall I send an invitation to Peebee?"_

Sara stiffens. "No SAM, but thank you—and before you ask, I don't want to talk about it." She sighs, shrugging dejectedly. "Not yet."

 _"Very well. I will leave you to your thoughts."_ A beat. _"Sweet dreams, Sara."_

Uh? Sara lifts her head, her brows furrowing together. "Since when do you say _that,_ SAM?"

 _"Since now. Dr. Anwar just educated me on the importance of wishing one well when they go to sleep."_ Another beat. _"Although I do not believe it affects the quality of sleep."_

"It's not supposed to." Sara chuckles, dropping her head back down. "It'd be great if magic words like that existed, but no; it's just Suvi being nice, as usual." And she's got a pretty good idea to whom. "You don't have to say it, but... Thanks. Hope you have sweet dreams too, SAM. If you ever sleep."

 _"I do not. But I experience dreams through you."_

Oh, god. That can be cheesy and sentimental, which she _wishes_ were the case, but now one of her worst fears has been confirmed. An AI has full access to her dreams. _Less-than-appropriate_ dreams. It's a miracle SAM hasn't been probing her with more intimate questions, though he likely knows how uncomfortable she'd be with that. Or maybe dad programmed a code that doesn't allow SAM access to the more private stuff? She's scared to ask.

Come on. Honestly, she's pretty sure she's _done_ worse than her dreams—in this very room too. Like... Every night. So why stress about dreams? Giving ideas is not the same as carrying them out into action.

Sara smirks. She tries to hold on to it, ignoring the incessant pangs that chase after bloody good memories. Regret trickles in for what she said to Peebee. Sara's crossed the point of no return when—if she _just_ bit her tongue—she could have recovered, and the most she'd walk away with is an argument.

Not _nothing._

Sometimes Sara can't help but wonder if she's the only one brooding over this. Is Peebee being kept up at night, wondering and wishing to do things over? Probably not. She breathes for tomorrow, not yesterday. It's the very thing Sara loves. She's always stuck in the past; and Peebee helped her move past that.

Ugh, Sara's well on her way to having a mind that refuses to shut off, no matter how utterly exhausted she is. And, as much as it screams _counterproductive,_ she gets up and heads to her dresser to wrestle something on. Every piece of clothing is donned with the most agonizing of heartaches, and she steals _plenty_ of glances at her heavenly bed—slightly damp from where she sandwiched it.

 _"Pathfinder?"_ SAM intones curiously, and she chuckles wryly. Poor AI is probably wondering why she's not doing the most logical thing right now. She wishes she had a concrete answer for him. _"Shall I let Cora know you are on your way?"_

Or not.

"Yeah. She probably wants to discuss our next move—and ask about the asari ark again. Let her know I'll be there soon." Sara sighs as she rakes a hand through her wet hair, grimacing with each knot she tries to untangle. She visits her _magic drawer_ first; one shot won't hurt anybody. If only SAM didn't filter the alcohol in her system. It takes too long to get drunk now—the worst affliction a party girl could ever suffer.

Peebee and Drack were the only ones who could keep up with her at the bar.

Holy _shit,_ stop moping about her!

Sara hisses as the alcohol burns down her throat, and it takes all over her not to slam the glass on her desk. She can't afford it to get shattered if even _dinnerware_ is rationed too. Anger surges through her and she grits her teeth when a headache creeps in, shooting down to the tips of her fingers. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

 _"Pathfinder? I am concerned."_ Who would've thought an AI could do that? Technology's outdone itself. _"This is not healthy. Dr. T'Perro would_ — _"_

"I'm fine, SAM. It's not the alcohol," she seethes through clenched teeth, crippling forward and leaning on the desk for support when her head starts to swim. Her stomach churns violently, and she groans when SAM just _has_ to play mother hen.

 _"Y_ _ou have avoided seeing Dr. T'Perro about it and it is getting worse."_

"What's she going to do? Nothing. She can't afford to. The whole Initiative can't." Sara lifts the whiskey bottle and sets it on her desk. "This is my pain medication."

-—-—-—-—-—-

"YES!" The moment the legs are disassembled from the assembler—"I crack myself up."—Peebee takes them and rushes for the med-bay, abusing her biotics to levitate the legs as she slides down the ladder. She inches them down carefully, but drops the last bit and grunts at the impact when the doors to the Pathfinder's quarters hiss, about to open. She hightails it out of there, determined to keep all thoughts at bay before they're shoved in her brain.

It's time for a whole new world of horrible puns instead. She's been looking forward to this.

"Remnant!" she shouts gleefully as the med-bay opens, cackling maniacally when everybody inside jolts in alert. She lifts the legs victoriously, grinning when the pirate sluggishly props up on her elbow. Her face screams _exhausted_ for all of a second, and then it lights up. "Wasn't sure where I had to cut 'em for ya, so I played it safe and popped it out from the hip sockets." She bounces over, cautious not to just toss the leg with her biotics.

"Weight might be an issue, but we can trim it down and get rid of what ya don't need." Her grin grows when Remnant runs a loving hand along the leg, excitement _literally_ glowing in her eyes. Peebee makes it a point not to look over at Suvi though, who's sitting on the other side of the bed and smiling away.

Hopefully she's not reading into this too much. Peebee did this only because she shares a common interest with a fellow engineer; it's totally not to make up for what she said to Suvi before. Of course not.

Remnant lifts the leg up high enough, and Suvi stands to move the bed sheets off to the side. It surprises Peebee that the two are working together so seamlessly, instinctively; something that reminds her of someone that shall _not_ be shoved in her brain. Peebee stiffens when Lexi walks over, inspecting the assembler's leg as it's set in between Remnant's stumps.

They look so weird... Just thighs and then... Nothing. How does she look _o_ _kay_ with this? Peebee would be freaking out. She glances around at the others; everyone else looks totally calm with this too. Weird. Guess it's nothing new to them. Suppose it's obvious with Lexi, but not so much with Suvi. Has she studied cybernetics before or something?

"The suspension system attached to the residual limbs may become a problem," Lexi notes, cautiously turning Remnant's thigh to study from another angle. "I could surgically remove them if you need to create a new suspension system to interface with your new..." She glances worriedly at the assembler legs. "...Prosthetics. Or I could work with our engineer and design something true and tried for you? We can try to build you what you've had before. We don't know what connecting remnant technology will do to you."

No! Bad doctor!

After all this effort—Peebee gives Remnant a pleading look, hoping the engineer will come to her senses; even if this might be an insane idea. But think of the rewards! Think about blazing a new path, think about being a pioneer and _advancing_ what modern prosthetics can accomplish and—

Remnant shakes her head; hopefully to Lexi and not Peebee's inner begging. The pirate grabs a laptop, typing a message and turning it for them to see.

" _YES!_ " Peebee laughs, victorious fist in the air.

 _[No. My new name is Remnant. A piece of the past, but I came to Andromeda to forge the future. These legs are the foundation. I know I can make this work.]_

Now Suvi looks nervous. Lexi too. Peebee balks at them. "Come _on_ guys, this is good! What's the worst that can happen?"

"For one: she can be rendered brain dead, and therefore clinically dead." Lexi snaps heatedly, and Peebee backs away when she honestly feels _threatened._ She's not seen Ms. Nosy-and-Uptight like this before. Lexi stares sternly at Remnant, who returns it with fierce determination. "And _if_ you survive, you could be paralyzed and not have the chance to walk ever again if this sabotages your nervous system."

Remnant smiles. Not confident, but calm. It's weird. _She's weird._ Suvi looks like she's trying not to freak out. Peebee doesn't understand them, doesn't get why they don't get this. Remnant types another message on the laptop, turning it towards Lexi. Peebee's forced to saddle up beside the doctor to read it.

 _[All the doctors told me the exact same thing in the Milky Way. We're in Andromeda now, we've accomplished a miracle just getting here. Now you tell me: what's my life going to look like if I need someone to carry my ass everywhere? I already **am** a vegetable as I am right now. I didn't come here to live a life I would have 600 years ago.]_

Peebee wholeheartedly agrees; great minds think alike, naturally.

"You might not have a life at all," Lexi retorts, though the heat in her voice dissipates as concern takes over. "Please, Ms. Kedar. I urge you to think about this. I can—"

Remnant rolls her eyes. She erases her message and looks over the laptop's lid, reaching over it to type one simple word.

 _[NO.]_

Peebee sniggers as she steals a glances at Suvi, who's out of the loop for not being able to read the messages too. Her worry is unmistakable; it's written all over her face, screaming in her eyes and hands as she grips the bed's railing with pure white knuckles. Talk about stress, someone needs to help her blow it off. Peebee still doesn't get why all this stress though. The pirate's just a stranger, or she will be once she leaves the Tempest.

No offense, for once, but there's tons of exiles who have it worse than this. This is a golden opportunity for Remnant, and for some reason everybody's fixated on all the what ifs; how the heck did they sign up for this trip with that mindset? There's only a million ways their journey could've blown up on them. Literally. Maybe this is just Suvi's bleeding heart at it again, and—

And... Is Suvi squeezing Remnant's hand now?

"Holy shit," Peebee blurts. All eyes are on her. She grins devilishly, laughing. "You have a thing for Remnant too!"


	15. Chapter 15

**The Lucifer Effect**

* * *

"Aces," Liam drawls sarcastically, "smooth Butter at it again..."

Remy helplessly watches as Suvi makes a hasty exit, mouth agape. Remy brings her laptop to her, staring at the doors instead of what her hand's typing. PB circles around Lexi and leans over, a mischievous grin plastered all over her face. A shudder rolls down Remy's back. A familiar shudder. Only one other asari has ever made her feel this way.

This woman _must_ be related to Sa'mosa, somehow.

"P-B. W-T-F," PB reads each letter aloud, and her rowdy laughter promptly earns a hand over her mouth. Remy glares even when the chuckles are barely muffled by her palm. No doubt about it, this asari is Sa'mosa #2. PB pulls away, casually helping herself to Remy's laptop. "This is how you actually spell my name, by the way."

 _[Peebee.]_

Remy stares at it. She angrily types below it. _[Good, now I know who the fuck to curse.]_

"Come on! It's not like her liking ya is a bad thing."

 _[That's besides the fucking point! You embarrassed her and now she might never come here again!]_

...It's scary to think why that matters.

"Oh, I _sincerely_ doubt that." Peebee keeps laughing, pulling away out of range to be silenced. Lexi sighs and shakes her head as she leaves, muttering something under her breath. Remy doesn't care. Right now, she doesn't even care about the legs—sort of. They could be her only means to chase Peebee and choke her.

Remy stares at the legs, then at her suspension system. Both will have to be modified heavily before they can even attach. It's still a long road ahead of her.

But at the end of it are several blue necks that need wrangling.

"I'm sorry for pointing out the obvious?" Peebee's grin is going to split her face soon. Too bad she's not close enough for a fist to do the job.

Remy promptly flips her middle finger, ignoring the memories that ebb in from every single time she had to do this to Sa'mosa. Then it hits her. If Peebee is like Sa'mosa...

Remy's life is going to be the definition of _hell_ on this ship.

" _Fuck,_ " she hisses, desperately dragging the leg over to her stump.

"Cut it out," Peebee sighs, chuckling in between as she takes the legs aside. She shrugs off the glare—Remy's look-that-kills is severely underdeveloped still. "It won't chase her off. It'll bring her closer, faster. You~ should be thanking me!" She jabs an accusatory finger in Remy's chest, pulling away and smirking when Remy fails to swipe it in time. "Ah, ah, ah, play nice. Anyways! Let's get back to suiting you up with your fancy new toys, Remnant."

 _[Good. The sooner I get my legs, the sooner I kick your ass.]_

"So~ scary," Peebee rolls her eyes. "Such a drama queen. You and the Pathfinder are perfect for each other. Soul mates. Want me to hook you two up?"

It doesn't escape Remy's notice when both Lexi and Liam turn to look over—hard to miss with their synchrony, a mix of confusion and concern on their faces.

Then anger, for Liam. "'Ey, what's that—"

Remy waves to interrupt, quickly adjusting the font size on the computer so that everyone can see.

 _[No, you and I are perfect for each other, Peebee.]_

Remy grins, less and less lopsided each time, turning the computer for Peebee to read—who looks positively _disgusted._ Well, fine! Remy isn't into her either! She chuckles at the thought as she looks over the laptop lid and continues her message, watching everyone's expressions change with pride. Bomb defused.

 _[Perfectly made to piss each other off.]_

"Oh, you're good. You~ are my new best—what is it humans say?—frenemy!" Peebee laughs as she gives a friendly bop across the shoulder.

...It's scary to think why Remy defused, not exploded.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"The asari's wisdom will prove to be beneficial to the Initiative as they have been for all Milky Way species." Cora defends vigorously; it's taking all of Sara's willpower not to sigh. "And we _know_ they will be allies. I see no issues with the turians, but we can't say the same about the krogan."

"And we need to let the krogan know that we _can_ be allies. We didn't travel all this way—united—only to be divided by prejudices that should've been left behind."

"After everything that happened during the revolt, there's no way the krogan will be willing to return to the Nexus; just like the exiles in Kadara. We need certainty again, and I have the navpoint of the Leusinia. We can get them right _now!_ We don't even know what we'll find on Elaaden; can we trust Avitus' information on this, or are we just going to be sent on a scavenger hunt?"

Sara bites back a grimace at her _collection_ of failures on that planet. Yeah. Let's not repeat Kadara again. Or Havarl; and everything in between. "We can trust his information, and the Leusinia isn't going anywhere, which is why we need to investigate where the turians are and see where the krogan stand."

"They don't stand with us, they've already made that obvious. If we have the asari on our side then the search for the turian ark will be faster. With all due respect, Pathfinder"—aka the infamous _'kiss my ass'_ —"your plan has too many things that can go wrong. We _need_ something to go right, for once." Cora clasps her wrists behind her as she straightens. A model of the perfect and dutiful soldier, clashing with a model of the imperfect and rebellious one. Where's the cliché story where they just happen to be the best of partners, balancing each other out?

"For once?" Sara crosses her arms, set on the defensive of what's _really_ lurking in her Second's tone. Sara doesn't get it. Cora prefers someone else to play leader, but is sore that she's not the leader. This one's personal. "We've turned whole ecosystems around and set up a couple outposts. There have been things going right." Sara narrows her eyes. "Just not in your direction."

Cora's face remains stoic. Her neck ripples ever so subtly. That cool composure is a double-edged sword, something so damn annoying and at the same time so damn relieving too. Half this ship is half-cocked. "Frankly, Pathfinder, I just think the real reason you don't want to go to the asari ark is because of Peebee."

And Sara _certainly_ counts herself among the loaded now.

"And frankly, Lieutenant, I think the real reason you want to go to the asari ark is because you see stars coming out their fucking asses. I do respect and think highly of the asari, but I just haven't put them on a pedestal. Peebee has _nothing_ to do with this or my decision. I'm disappointed you think so lowly of my judgment that—"

Cora laughs dryly. She turns away, shaking her head. "All that talk, then you say that?" She shrugs as she heads to her plants. "Always talking, never doing. We—"

" _You._ " Sara corrects.

"—need results." Cora starts watering the plants, the heat in her voice dissipating—the opposite for Sara. "And results aren't accomplished with words, Pathfinder."

"Results, riiiight... Diplomacy is so passé, let's fire your torpedo so we can make it in time for lunch. Why don't we just repeat all of the Milky Way's mistakes while we're at it?" Sara retorts flippantly, gnawing on her tongue to try to keep her cool for just a minute longer. She storms out the bio-lab, waving dismissively, barely holding on to the venomous insults hailing left and right in her mind.

How the hell is she supposed to unite people with such strong opinions? How is she supposed to encourage diplomacy in such volatile territory? It's the equivalent of asking a pissed off shooter to put the gun down. There's a _reason_ they're pissed off and shooting in the first place.

Diplomacy should be an asari thing, and yet Sara can't even find common ground with her Second. She heads straight back to her quarters to blow off enough steam to reflect and think on what it is she really should do. Is she just being stubborn? Is she throwing her weight around as the 'almighty Pathfinder'?

It's times like these she wishes she could vent to Peebee, to be taken down a peg, to get help removing emotion from the equation and focus on what truly matters.

And what's stopping her from doing exactly that?

Sara lifts her forearm and engages her omni-tool, but anxiety spikes when her hand hovers over Peebee's frequency. Is this desperation, or sleep-deprivation? Is this going to lead into something more, something they'll regret, something that'll tear them further apart? A lump grows in Sara's throat and she can't swallow it down. There's other level-headed people she _can_ talk to—like Suvi, Lexi, Kallo, Vetra—but all she can think about is Peebee. The mind screams everyone else, the heart screams nobody but _her._

Maybe she'll know what direction they should go to, too; she'll likely lean on wherever takes them closer to remnant though.

 _Dive in, throw caution to the wind._ The first lesson Sara learned after Peebee jumped down Eos' gravity well.

What's the worst that can happen? It's not like Sara can screw things up even more.

...Right?

-—-—-—-—-—-

Sophie grins as she kisses up Remedy's stomach, languidly tending to her breasts until she comes down from her high. "Whaddya say _now,_ Rem? Ready to surf?"

"'M surfing somethin', alright..." Remedy mumbles hoarsely, closing her eyes as her arm slings across and flops on her forehead. Warm breaths patter against her sweat-slicked skin, sending goosebumps spiraling all over. She shifts to try to find some spot on the bed that isn't uncomfortably damp. Wet kisses trail up to her neck, and she chuckles when she can _feel_ Sophie's smug grin tuck into the groove where her nape and shoulder meet.

Remedy knows the surest way to wipe it off.

"We need to study, our finals are tomorrow." Jackpot. There it goes; she doesn't even need to look. "We have 16 hours and we'll be tested on 35040 hours worth of—"

"Augh, you're killin' me, possum! Fine, have it your way." Sophie groans as she pushes off abruptly. Remedy shivers at the sudden loss of heat, pulling and wrapping a blanket around her. She almost laughs and admits she's joking, until Sophie _actually_ cleans up the stack of binders she knocked off.

This has never happened before. And they're in their last year.

Remedy blinks to make sure she's not just imagining things, watching in disbelief as Sophie—honest to god—makes an effort to read Remedy's notes.

"Mmm, yeah..." Sophie mumbles thoughtfully, flipping to the next page. "Mm~hm, yeah, yeah." The binder slams shut and Remedy jumps, startled. Sophie's free-spirited grin is the first thing that smacks her in the face. It's a look Remedy knows all too well. "I think I know some of these words!"

Remedy's head drops dejectedly when her binder is casually tossed over the shoulder, and she buries her face in her hands. "Oh my god, Sophie, _you're so screwed._ " She yelps when she's tackled to the bed, laughing when the blanket's ripped off of her, gasping when white hot electricity shoots up her spine as a firm knee nestles between her thighs.

"I will be," Sophie purrs, then stops. She lifts her head, looking positively horrified. "I will, right? Eventually?"

"Eventually." Remedy rolls her eyes, chuckling. She grabs a pillow and playfully shoves it in Sophie's face, seizing the element of surprise to roll them until she's the one on top. She grabs the hem of Sophie's shirt and rolls it up, teasingly breathing over every inch exposed... Then stops and pushes off from the bed. "But first, the sea!"

"Augh, you're killin' me, possum! Fine... Have it your way..."

Remedy spins around after she grabs her wetsuit, smirking triumphantly as she watches Sophie flail her disappointment out on the bed. Remedy grabs a towel and saunters over, looping it under Sophie's hips and tugging to drag the tortured woman off. She should've known Remedy would do this.

Teasing's her favorite part of the game.

"I'll help you study while we surf," Remedy offers, and it takes all of her not to laugh at how fast Sophie whips up into sitting, blinking big beady puppy eyes. "Jeez, 4 years later and you're still acting like I've never done it." Remedy shakes her head, pulling the towel up to the neck and leaning down as she drags her theatrical girlfriend in for a kiss.

"Well, I mean, I take my clothes off all the time and still haven't been ravaged, Rem, soooo..."

"That's got nothing to do with studying or surfing. Besides, remember that one story I told you about my ex?"

"Which one?"

"The bike one. Or do you mean which story?"

"No," Sophie grins, "which ex?"

Remedy gives a playful shove. " _You,_ if you keep this up, smartass. I've only got one, remember?"

Sophie shrugs as she stands, stealing a peck on the cheek. "I'd never forget. I stole you from her, after all."

"Stole me? You definitely need to get your memory checked."

"What? No. That's what happened after you stole her bike." Okay. Sophie's definition of 'stole' must mean something else here. Well, actually, truthfully but _technically,_ Remedy might have taken some parts off the bike that might not have belonged to her. "It was the same day you found out—"

Waves lap at the shore. Remedy turns around, blocking her eyes from the sun, digging her toes in the sand.

 **Home.**

Out here, she's free. She belongs to nobody but the water. The waves push her, but she still decides where she gets to go with the flow. She tucks her board under her armpit, wading in until she's knee-deep, standing and closing her eyes as she soaks in all the sounds and sensations. She'll never grow tired of this feeling.

Somewhere in the distance, Sophie's calling; probably teasing about stripping and surfing in the buff again. Even if this is their own little slice of heaven, someone's still bound to see them once they swim farther out.

Swim... Farther out...

The calls grow nearer. Frantic. Remedy's hunched over the side of her board, clinging on to it for dear life, fear burning in her chest. A crowd's growing at shore. Sophie's coming to her with a fucking cudgel. She won't get here fast enough. Remedy's dragged under again, and she screams and gargles and chokes as gut wrenching agony rips into her and _tears away_ from her.

All she sees is red water.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Frazzled, Suvi paces about in the vid-con room, gripping her mug of tea as if her very life depends on it. She sips as she closes her eyes, hand over her racing heart. It's been hours and she still can't calm down. In a matter of mere seconds, what she _thought_ has been shattered by what she _feels,_ thanks to Peebee.

How didn't Suvi catch on to all of this before?

Everything up to this point has been obvious, but she was just present in the moment. Living. Feeling. Being. Never thinking—unless it was thinking about Remy, and solutions for Remy, and... Everything to do with Remy. It's almost astounding how Suvi got sucked into this trap so easily, drawn to a complete and utter stranger—and it all started with simple curiosity. A picture on a datapad.

All fine and dandy, but what is she supposed to do _now?_ She hightailed it out of the med-bay, flustered. How does she come back? How does she face Remy? What does she even say? Well, she knows what she wants to say; knows what she wants to do, too. And that's what scares her.

Knowing what she _really_ wants.

Take a leap of faith; easier said than done. This entire time, she's been reacting, not acting.

Maybe she should move elsewhere before SAM notifies someone how long she's been up here. Just the embarrassing thought of Lexi talking her down from here—and how likely that'd actually happen—is enough to spur Suvi to change her mind's destination to the bridge. She needs to start thinking about _every_ one, not _just_ one. She needs to stop slacking and start working. She needs something to occupy her—other than this dreadfully nauseating feeling coiling her guts.

Passing by the bio-lab provokes another curiosity: should she check on the Pathfinder? Ryder appeared upset when she rushed out. Guilt trickles in; Suvi witnessed this and yet was so absorbed by her own foolish plight, that she neglected to even _think_ about checking on their leader. And then even more guilt weighs down when her mind goes back to her last 'conversation' with the Pathfinder.

" _Shite,_ " she whispers under her breath, making haste for the bridge.

How selfish of her to shove everything on a young woman's shoulders, knowing everyone else is doing the same, knowing how stressed Ryder is; and on top of all that mess, Suvi rashly accused and doubted and insulted the Pathfinder when she should've done everything to calm down and understand and support and _pray._

This ship, this crew... It's become the definition of dysfunction. Everybody is fighting with _someone_ on here; how the Tempest is still operational is a miracle. SAM must be running at maximum capacity 24/7 just to keep them afloat. That **must** change.

With her mind set, she marches to the bridge faster. The dreadful feeling grows; unsettling. Suvi hesitates and slows down when she notices the Pathfinder up at the helm, tuning the display and dragging coordinates on the interface, looks like. Something isn't right. Steeling herself, Suvi approaches warily and makes way for her station, ready to receive instruction and _finally_ return to work.

"Where to next, Pathfinder?" She sits down. Turns her monitors on. The hair on her nape stands when she looks over, and goosebumps rush down her spine.

" _Nexus_ _,_ " Ryder seethes icily. "Get Kallo."


	16. Chapter 16

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: Right you are, T-Rex. Just as a heads up, sometime next year I will be leaving for training over the course of 6 months, so this story will either slow down or be on temporary hiatus. I'm not sure when I'll be leaving but we still have time and I'll make sure I trek out a chapter to announce it before I leave. Updates should also speed back up now that my job's slowed down too. In the mean time, I hope everybody continues to enjoy!

* * *

Remy's pinned against the wall by Sophie. Trapped, can't breathe. Remy wants to get away; wants to move forward, but she's always dragged back.

Remy pins Suvi against the wall. Can't breathe—for a good reason. Smiles touch Remy's neck; touches her heart too. She's always drawn to them.

To her.

They're side by side. It's dark; there's nothing, really. Remy steals a glance at Suvi, who always looks forward; always looks up—up at Remy too. Not down. Not behind.

Something sparks, and the world changes again. Chaotic waves crash against each other. Fresh air burns in Remy's lungs, and she takes a deep breath, closing her eyes as the distant sound of seagulls reach her ears. A ghost of a touch brushes the back of her hand, and she smiles. She turns her palm and catches it before it skitters away. It's soft, feels covered by some sort of fabric or something.

Must be Suvi's hand.

Remy opens her eyes. The beach disappears, and it's blinding white. The inside of her elbow stings, and she's swinging in the air. She kicks the legs she doesn't have. Her hands fly to her throat—trapped, can't breathe. Gasping, she claws at the large fingers crushing her throat. A krogan towers over her with piercing green eyes glazed with killing intent, and it growls and salivates and bares it's razor sharp teeth in a vicious snarl.

Fear burns in her chest. A crowd grows around, and one brave woman marches fearlessly as she aims her pistol at the krogan's head. Lexi's standing by with syringes. She won't get here fast enough; those things won't do shit to a krogan anyways. High-pitched ringing nestles in Remy's ears, in her _brain,_ and the blinding white spins. She can't kick. She can't hold on. She's slipping away.

"Good!" It booms, shaking her to the core. The krogan? It's hard to hear—too faint. Purple dots flood her vision, and the ringing grows louder as she grows weaker.

"She's worse than the _kett._ "

She's dragged under again.

All she sees is deep blue blood.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Suvi nibbles on the string of her hoodie, eyeing the other end gripped by Remy, smiling. Suvi tries to suppress her shivers so that nobody notices—particularly Lexi—and hopefully not get overly worried about whatever she's caught this time; hopefully it won't be anything more than a cold, or something indicating a reaction from the plant samples she's been studying from Havarl.

Every now and then, she looks up from her laptop and watches the sleeping engineer with concern. There's flickers of both bliss and stress striking across her brow, furrowing and relaxing; it's almost like Remy is the sea, bobbing up and down. The thought—and random visual image of eyebrows swimming up and down—pulls Suvi's lips into a subtle smirk.

She's _got_ to tell Remy that one.

Suddenly, Remy's body jolts awake. Suvi sets her laptop aside and watches as dazed eyes flutter about, until they eventually lock on her. "Good morning," she greets pleasantly, tugging the hoodie string out her mouth when the words come out slightly muffled.

Remy's eyes always do this endearing little thing: lighting up—literally. But when they cast down to the string she's holding, vivid disappointment takes that light away. A pang of worry nestles deep in Suvi's gut, and she instinctively reaches for Remy's hand when the string is let go.

"Is everything alright, Remy?"

Remy dejectedly pulls away to free her hand, dragging her laptop over. It's like all hope and life has died in this poor soul. Suvi waits anxiously, squishing her hands between her knees as she scoots closer. She leans to the side to see what's being typed. And melts.

 _[I dreamed about holding your hand. Then I woke up to a string. I need to go back to sleep ASAP.]_

Trying to ignore the heat crawling up her neck, Suvi laughs it off. Awkwardly. She coughs and clears her throat as gracefully as she can, bashfully averting her gaze whenever she meets Remy's eyes. Suvi looks at her hands still stuffed between her knees, nervously running her thumb along her palm as she inwardly screams at her fingers to just _reach._

Technically she did, after all, promise herself to make Remy's dreams come true, no?

Flustered, Suvi's inner thoughts pressure her to think of something to say. She can feel the engineer's stare; it's unnerving, but it's delightful at the same time. Mischief sparks. She looks up, smirking, reveling in the devilish glint dancing in Remy's eyes. "You're trouble," Suvi teases, melting even more when the engineer grins deviously. "Always teasing me. How will we ever progress our relationship if I can't tell if you're serious?"

The grin falls.

 _Revenge._

Remy blinks. She's stuck staring, blinking some more, her mouth dropping ever so slightly. She glances off to the side and her eyebrows furrow in confusion. Suvi looks over her shoulder, and her stomach twists uncomfortably at the sight of a now-empty bed. She smiles sadly as she looks back at the engineer. "Liam's been transferred to the Nexus med-bay. He's likely going to remain there until he recovers."

Goosebumps rush down Suvi's back and the hair on her nape stands at attention when Remy's gaze hones in on her. Remy's eye isn't glowing, but rather _burns_ bright. Anger shatters the illusion of the blissful peace sleep wrought and she jerks her laptop closer as she types furiously, pushing it to Suvi.

 _[Your Pathfinder better not try to hand me over to Nexus.]_

"N-no," Suvi blurts, "you're staying with us on the Tempest." She bites her tongue in time before she finishes that sentence—and reveal why the Pathfinder has decided to keep Remy on board. A painful pang nestles in Suvi's chest; maybe one day she'll have the courage to ask Remy the story about the angaran children. She _appears_ to be coping well, despite not being able to see them.

Appearances have been known to be deceiving, though.

Remy narrows her eyes as she types a simple message. _[ **Good.** ]_

One word is more than enough to say a thousand things; there's a threat hiding in there. Suvi doesn't need to see it, or hear it. It's more than enough that she can feel it. Memories rush back from how upset Remy was in Kadara, calling her 'Nexus' just because of her uniform. It doesn't take a genius to piece together that someone like Remy most definitely harbors resentment for the Initiative leaders; perhaps any leader, even.

Hopefully time and the Pathfinder will reignite Remy's faith in leadership, because Suvi really has no idea how to help. She knows her word alone won't just suddenly change somebody's perspective—especially after all the horrors she's heard and read of what the exiles had gone through. She's almost at peace with the fact that Remy's perspective may never change...

But it never hurts to hope.

Taps on her hand break her from her reverie, and she smiles awkwardly when Remy's brow arches in what seems to be a mix of concern and curiosity. Then the engineer points to her laptop. Suvi's cheeks flush with warmth at just how determined and dedicated—to mischief—Remy really is.

 _[So anyways, back to progressing our relationship?]_

Oh, the wall looks very intriguing all of a sudden. It's design merits thorough study. _Yes..._

Suvi coughs into her fist, clearing her throat as gracefully as she cannot possibly manage right now. She smooths out imaginary wrinkles in her hoodie. The impish grin dancing in the corner of her eyes is a telling sign. Just as she thinks of leaving with a witty one-liner—but more like with her tail between her legs—a firm hand slides over her own, drawing her gaze to study the back of Remy's hand instead.

Scarred knuckles, broken nails. Suvi idly worries her lip as she stares at the reminder of what Remy's life was like on Kadara.

 **Was.**

It no longer will be, not if Suvi has anything to say about it. She itches to take off her gloves, to palpate every groove and study the engineer's hand. Curiosity, of course. There are hypotheses to be formed and confirmed. It's all for science. _Yes..._

Suvi instinctively squeezes when Remy does, and she smirks when she sees that flash of a grin in her peripheral vision. "You're relentless," she chuckles, gently massaging the engineer's palm as she dares look up. She holds firmly so that she doesn't give this devil the chance to tease her and type another message for her. It's more than enough to guess what Remy wants to say just from the look she's giving Suvi now.

...Who yelps when she's tugged.

Scrambling to break her fall, her hands shoot up and catch the headboard in time. Her breath slithers out shakily as a calloused hand slips behind her neck. Locked in a gaze, she stares down, wide-eyed, at the bright glowing eye. The engineer's expression is set in stone, serious and driven. Suvi's heart thunders uncontrollably as she struggles to calm down; can anyone? This has certainly escalated. She's been bold and she's dated bold people, but none quite like this.

Remy never wavers in her stare nor grip. She doesn't pull Suvi closer; doesn't push farther away either. They're locked down. Just what is going on in this woman's mind? What is she trying to say with this? What are her intentions?

It's almost terrifying to think which intention Suvi _wants._

Maybe the next step is being left up to her—to interpret and to progress; but isn't this progression just a little _too_ fast? Suvi feels like she's at war with herself and her arms are starting to shake from fatigue, though it's nothing compared to the shaking inside of her. She still stares, wide-eyed and dumbfounded, torn with what this is all supposed to mean. She wishes she could get another hint. She does.

Remy smiles.

...And lets go.

Immediately, Suvi rushes to chastise herself. _'Be careful with what you wish for.'_ Says one thought. _'Fix this!'_ Screams another, among a hail of others urging her to be bold herself and follow Remy's lead, to take her opening and opportunity. Maybe the reason why she's not following through is because she isn't sure if the attraction is mutual? It's a simple fix.

So why in the bloody hell can't Suvi fix something so simple?

"I'm sorry," she blurts instead, gut wrenching with guilt at the disappointment that overwhelms Remy's features. Suvi shakes her head hastily. "N-no, I mean... I-it's just..." She pushes off the headboards and ungracefully plops back down on the chair, taking a deep breath when a lump grows in her throat. She won't stop tripping over syllables, stammering foolishly. She can feel the engineer's eyes all over her, and she fidgets as she nervously runs her thumb along her palm, taking a moment to collect herself before she speaks.

Another deep breath. "It's strange, isn't it? This. Between us, I mean." Suvi mumbles, staring at the floor as if it holds all the answers to the universe. If only that were possible; it'd certainly be helpful right about now. She sighs as she shakes her head. "I'm makin' a mess of this. And—" she cuts off when she notices Remy wave, and anxiety spikes higher as she looks up at the laptop turning towards her.

 _[I like you, Suvi. If you can't tell, then I will: I **am** serious.]_

Mutual attraction. This ought to be a simple fix. So why does she feel as if there are so many complicated variables polluting the equation?

 _[Go with the flow. See where the sea takes us. We don't have to know right in this moment if we're soul mates, but I want to get to know you.]_

Remy pauses, fingers wiggling over the keyboard. A devilish grin swipes across her face. Suvi's stomach twists in a knot—and it's still impossible to tell if it's a good thing or a bad thing.

 _[All we have to know right in this moment is if we're able to practice some lip movements together. It'll help me out with my speech therapy, you know?]_

Suvi's face falls. She ignores the subtle heat still throbbing at her cheeks. She doesn't dare back down nor break the mischievous woman's gaze. If Remy thinks she can get away with teasing Suvi, she is _so_ incredibly wrong. Suvi sits up straighter, clasping her hands neatly as she smiles innocently. There's an eagerness in Remy's eyes. Good.

It's about to be obliterated.

"Oh, I know some lip movements that should aid your therapy. Lexi helped me out with it once, when I was recovering after the swelling in my mouth went away." Her cheeks are already hurting to stop her smile from growing wider. Remy's lost look is adorable. Suvi inwardly grins as she lands the killing blow, rounding her lips exaggeratedly. "Ooo—eee. That really helps move the lips. This next one too." She purses her lips, struggling to keep her laughter contained when Remy's hopeful expression soon falls deadpan in all of a glorious second.

...Suvi yelps when she's tugged again.

Fingers hook on the lip of her hoodie's collar, bringing her close enough to feel Remy's calm breaths patter against her nose. Something in Suvi snaps. It's her turn to be bold; she refuses to be teased and pushed around so easily, especially when she's more than capable of fighting back. She leans down.

And jumps _far_ away when the med-bay's doors slide open.

"Hey, Remna—oh~ I am definitely interrupting something good here." Does the universe hate Suvi or what? "See? I told you so!" Peebee jabs an accusatory finger in Remy's direction. "I brought her closer, faster!" Peebee crosses her arms as she saunters over with a haughty smile. "You can thank me any time now."

Remy groans as Suvi makes a hasty escape, never daring to look at the mischievous asari in the eye.

-—-—-—-—-—-

 _[WORDS CANNOT EXPRESS HOW FUCKED YOU ARE WHEN I GET MY LEGS.]_

"Oh dial down the drama," Peebee rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "And is all caps really necessary? I mean, it's pretty obvious you're pissed. But before you finish—" she grins as she tilts her head and catches glimpse of Remnant's new message. "—that line of swear words, let me just say that you should still be thanking me. You wouldn't have gotten that almost-kiss, otherwise."

 _[I HAVEN'T GOTTEN FUCK ALL BECAUSE OF YOU. 'OTHERWISE'.]_

Peebee sighs as she nonchalantly plucks the laptop away from Remnant—safely, with biotics, of course. She turns off the caps lock and shuts down the holographic interface for just that button, then gives the laptop back—still safely, with biotics, of course.

Remnant's eye is doing that weird glowing thing still. Peebee knows—"I know just the thing to calm you down." She reaches into her back pocket and takes out a micro USB, bouncing it between her fingers. The dirty look lasts all of a second before it caves to curiosity. "This is all the data I've ever collected on the remnant. I don't hand this out like candy." She starts to give it as Remnant reaches for it, but pulls it back the last second and gives a stern look. "I don't hand out candy either."

Remnant rolls her eyes, thrusting her palm out further as her eyes scream: _"_ _just give the damn thing."_

"Not 'til you say truce." Peebee grins, bouncing the USB again. "And thank me too."

A heavy sigh slips out, and Remnant groans exaggeratedly as she pulls her laptop over, typing with a lack of fire only present in one who acts as if their soul has been sucked out. Peebee chuckles as she leans over and reads the message. The USB is plucked from her in the same moment and she shoots an indignant look, until Remnant jerks her chin back to the laptop.

 _[truce. i'll thank you once you hook me up with something else.]_

Peebee stares, then remembers that she's shut the caps off... Then wonders what Remnant means. "Something? Not someone?"

Remnant nods, pointing at the word on her screen.

"'Something', alright..." Peebee shrugs it off as she straightens. "Depends on what ya need. Is it for the legs?" She frowns when Remnant shakes her head. "Uh, for Suvi?"

Looking up at the ceiling in thought, Remnant bounces her head left and right. The hell is that supposed to mean? She takes to her laptop and types. _[sorta.]_

Okay, this is going to take forever. Peebee groans. "Fine, but you better not make this a habit, and we better work on the legs after this. What do you need now?"

Now it's Remnant's turn to grin. _[a hoodie.]_

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself here, Liam." Sara urges as she helps Lexi set up her teammate's new bed. As soon as the wheels lock, Liam frowns and shrugs indifferently, refusing to look at Sara. Her gut twists with guilt. "I'll come back for you as soon as you're given the green light."

"Whatever you say, Pathfinder." His gruff tone tells it all. Lexi exchanges a hesitant look with Sara, who sighs as she brings up the plinth's safety bars.

"You'll get the best treatment and recover much faster here, Liam. That means you'll be out in the field sooner. This is better."

"Sure it is." He shrugs. "Just wish you actually talked to me 'bout this instead of shipping me off just because of what _you_ think is best for _me._ "

"The Pathfinder is right in her decision, Liam." Lexi comes down stern, but it doesn't help ease the wrenching in Sara's stomach. She can't do this right now, she really can't. She's too upset about too many things; so she leaves, not bothering to say goodbye. Why? Liam is going to hate her regardless if she does or doesn't.

Why the hell is she meeting resistance everywhere she goes?

Sara combs her bangs back, trying to blow them out of the way when they keep falling back in place. "Even my hair is against me," she mutters, heading back to the tram. Next stop: Tann. She has words for him—swear words—after the message he sent her. She's going to meet with the krogan whether he likes it or not. He can't tell her who she can and can't see. Who does he think he is, ordering her around?

...Oh, only the Director of the Initiative.

Well, big woopie. Everybody hates him just as much as everybody hates her. She should be out there doing her job, not returning here just to give him a piece of her mind and to put the placeholder back in place. No doubt Cora has her hand in all of this; there's no way Tann would've known about Elaaden otherwise.

All of Sara's feelings about Tann are probably pretty similar to how Cora feels about Sara. Dad made this Pathfinder thing look a lot less stressful than it actually is; then again, he didn't necessarily have the chance to deal with politics. He probably would have never entertained it anyways.

So why is Sara?

This is their survival at stake. What Tann wants or thinks or believes is of little concern to her. He has no idea what he's doing, just like her; but at least she has objectives in place and the means to complete them. She can explore and help people and discover new alien life or technology—the very reason she came here for. Not stress over politics. There will always be dysfunction and people she won't get along with. Tann and Cora are two of them.

Reluctantly, Sara steps on to the tram. She's still torn with her decision, and indecision, hopping back and forth with what she's supposed to do. It honestly feels like even deciding whether to brush her teeth or not will cause a catastrophic mental breakdown. If she leaves without speaking to Tann, then she's wasted the trip to get here—barring from dropping Liam off, anyways.

Hand hovering over the interface, Sara chooses the common area. The doors close and the tram jerks to life. She turns around and heads over to plop down on the seat, wishing she could lay down and go to sleep instead. It's been too long since she's had a decent night's rest—too long since she's rested, period.

All of this is wearing her down and she knows it—knows she's helpless against it too. There's only so much a person can take. She needs to blow off this stress before it cripples her to the point she can't make any rational decision. She needs music; no, she needs to _play_ music. Maybe Gil can figure out how to build her a keyboard, or maybe Vetra knows where they could find a cheap holographic imitation. Anything is better than nothing.

Mind set, Sara sluggishly pushes herself off the seat before she passes out here. She plods over to the interface to hold on to the dashboard before she topples over in exhaustion; every muscle begs to go back to the seat. Then the tram door opens.

And every muscle begs to run away.

Sara's lips thin in a strained smile. "Hey..."

Peebee waves curtly, stepping inside without a _hi, bye,_ or _fuck you._ This is Sara's stop. She should be getting off here, but she's stuck. She can't even bring herself to turn around when Peebee steps around her and heads to the tram's interface, never saying a word. Did someone turn the air filter off in here? It's stuffy and humid and sticky and heavy and she can't fucking _breathe._

Sara watches as the doors close. She's trapped in the worst way possible. Every muscle begs for a million different things, and she can't do a single damned thing. Her mind races with hundreds of questions, but she can't bring herself to ask one. Every time her mouth opens, a lump chokes her off and she has to swallow just to clear it and breathe. She stuffs her sweaty hands in the kangeroo pocket of her hoodie, stiffening when she feels a tap on her shoulder. She reluctantly looks over, and Sara's heart soars with hope when blue hands tug on her hoodie.

"Take it off."

...She's trapped in the best way possible.


	17. Chapter 17

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: As always, thank you very much for taking the time to review! I always appreciate it and it's fun hearing your thoughts. Hope everybody continues to enjoy and have a lovely day!

* * *

"Thanks, Pathfinder! You're gonna make a girl real happy with this!"

Sara stares in disbelief as the tram doors close—and Peebee rerouted them back to the common area. It's Sara's stop again, but she can't move. Her heart's stopped too. She looks down at herself, thumbing at the hem of her tanktop. "What... The fuck?" She heads over to the closest seat and her legs give out on her, falling ungracefully; she's trying to wrap her mind around what just happened, trying to calm her body down from what she _thought_ was going to happen, trying to come to terms with erratic emotions as they cry outrage.

Maybe this is Peebee's way of trying to build a bridge between them? Maybe the hoodie is for her, and she's the one that's going to be real happy with it. Maybe—

"Fuck, I was _so_ ready to strip us both down right here..." Sara sighs, hunching forward as her head hangs dejectedly. The lack of a hood plopping on the back of her head is only adding insult to injury. Goosebumps rise on her forearms. She closes her eyes when they start to burn; she really is ready to cry over this. Disappointed is an understatement.

Sara buries her face in her hands and massages her temples. "The things I do for you, Peebee..." she mutters under her breath, not bothering to look up when she hears someone else board the tram. If it's not Peebee, she doesn't care—and Sara's willing to bet _her life_ that it isn't.

Someone else doesn't care if she doesn't want to bother, though. Taps on her shoulder make her look up; for the first second, her heart skyrockets at the flash of blue hands, until she sees which asari it actually is. Her heart shrivels and sinks to the pits of her belly. A fitting resting place, considering how everyone is treating her emotions like shit. Ugh, she annoys herself when she sulks like a baby.

"Have you been here this entire time, Pathfinder?" Lexi asks worriedly as she takes a seat, and the moment her eyes dip down, brow furrowing in confusion, Sara hangs her head in shame. Yes, no hoodie, an astute observation. She rubs her sleepy eyes, shrugging as her answer. Lexi sighs. "Liam may be upset, but not at you—he's frustrated about the entire situation. I hope you're not taking what he said to heart?"

Oh, an easy way out!

Trying not to let it show all over her damn face, Sara lets her shoulders sink dejectedly as she hides her face in her hands, nodding. She nearly jumps in her own skin when a gentle hand squeezes her knee. Every part of her is still charged with inappropriate thoughts, and she abruptly stands as she heads over to the interface to reset their destination to the common area. Seriously, to be desperate enough to want to jump her own medical officer? She should be ashamed of herself. And she isn't.

"I'm fine Lexi," she states with a dismissive wave over the shoulder. She pauses, pondering on a believable lie, but comes up with nothing. Sara caves under the pressure of silence and shakes her head. "It's not Liam—well it is and isn't, not really, anyways. There's just a lot sitting on my mind." She worries her lip, biting it to stop the words that come out anyways. "I can't sleep. Can't stop thinking if everything I'm doing is just another mistake, too."

Everything she shouldn't be saying, and it's all tumbling out in a mindless rant anyways. It's not that she doesn't trust Lexi, but she doesn't want to worry Lexi when she's powerless to help Sara's plight. There's no need to bury the Tempest's only medical officer with stress too.

"I can prescribe you medication to assist with sleeping," Lexi starts, and Sara turns around as her eyebrow piques in skepticism. She rolls her eyes when Lexi smiles _that_ smile. "Only for short term use, of course. We should discuss the rest in a place where you feel more at home, and brainstorm things that will help expend all that pent up stress."

"You think I haven't tried? Some of the things I love, I can't do anyways."

"Like drinking?"

The way Lexi asks that rubs Sara in all the wrong ways. She narrows her eyes and defensively crosses her arms, glaring at the asari who sits comfortably on her high horse. Lexi is either oblivious to the hostility—highly doubtful—or is unmoved by it. "I've studied psychology extensively, Pathfinder. Your unhealthy habits—"

"Oh, shove off. I don't need a lecture."

"It's not a lecture, but an explanation. The stress you're under, compounded with external stressors to your system, is trapping your body in an alarmed state. Think of it this way: if you don't listen to your body, what if it's only choice is to increase it's volume? It can be as simple as what you're eating that may be triggering stressful responses too, even if it's not an outright allergic reaction. And..."

As Lexi drones on, Sara loses focus. Some things are intriguing, they really are, but anything medical-related is definitely not her forte nor interest. She wouldn't know where to begin solving this 'alarmed state' of hers anyways. It's not like she can shut her mind off.

"There are ways to shut the mind off."

Sara snaps back into the present, staring at Lexi in disbelief. Is there a meld going on here or what?

"Seriously? Can I? Because that would be a godsend, Lexi."

Lexi smiles as she stands, gesturing to the doors when the tram stops at their destination. "As I said, we should discuss this in a place where you feel more at home."

Home. The place Sara is trying to find for everybody.

And yet she can't help but feel like no such place will ever exist.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Remy knows she's powerless. She knows. She knows her limits, and she knows she doesn't have a whole lot to offer as she stands now; just kidding, she can't stand anyways. She has to bring out her entire arsenal and fire what little she has left. She's not very threatening—can't appear that way, can't even sound that way.

But _fuck_ if she still won't give it her fucking all to **choke** an asshole.

Remy grabs the nearest thing—her laptop—and reels it back, throwing it at Peebee. The asshole laughs it off and stops it in midair with not even a wave of her finger, levitating it all calm and cool back to Remy, but remains out of reach, taunting sadistically. A stupid hoodie flies _just_ out of Remy's reach too. Screw biotics.

Every part of Remy is screaming to kill this woman. There is absolutely no god damn doubt left in her mind—hell, even in her _soul._ Peebee is definitely related to Sa'mosa; or maybe Murphy's Law is far more pronounced in this galaxy. Remy lurches forward quickly enough to steal the laptop back, throwing it for the umpteenth time. She glares furiously when it stops, and Peebee nonchalantly walks over to pluck it out the air.

"Your fault for not specifying what _kind_ of hoodie," she shrugs. "What were you expecting? Doubt designers came on this trip; or they're still a popsicle somewhere."

Everything's a hand-me-down, Remy gets that. She does. That's Kadara's theme; whatever landed in her hands had already exchanged several others.

But _fuck_ if she still won't give it her fucking all to **choke** this asshole.

Peebee sets the laptop on the bed as she dares approach closer, a sudden and unexpectedly serious look sweeping her face. "Calm your tits." There's an image. "I don't like the figureheads up top either, but at the end of the day, we're _all_ Initiative. Deal with it." She throws the hoodie at Remy's face, who simmers down when she picks up the broiling heat in Peebee's tone. "That stupid sweater belongs to one of the figureheads." Her voice cracks. "Burn it if you want—I'll help—but just take the damn thing already."

Sheen eyes encourage Remy to back down, and she quietly takes the sweater as she bows her head. Usually she'd fight like hell—submission is dangerous no matter where in the universe she is; but she hears what figurehead—and stupid sweater—actually means to Peebee.

But as soon as she leaves, there's gonna be a hole cut out this damn thing.

Remy attempts to put the sweater on, grunting in effort until she feels hands on the other side trying to help her out. When her head pops through, what was left of her fire extinguishes completely with the hollow look in Peebee's eyes. Remy's familiar with it—seen it everyday on Kadara. She doesn't address it though. Not like she knows how to anyways. She avoids Peebee's eyes as she looks down and runs a hand along the sweater, playing with the hoodie's strings. That's really all she needed.

"...Tanks." Remy mumbles, ignoring the spark of frustration over her mispronunciation. To her surprise, Peebee doesn't mock her, just shrugs and grabs the nearest chair as she reaches for one of the remnant legs.

"Gonna tell me what ya wanted the hoodie for if you're the one wearing it?" Peebee mutters, stealing one of Remy's tools too as she turns a leg on it's side. Hopefully she's not going to undo what little work Remy was able to do with one hand. Peebee drags the laptop over and plops it on the engineer's lap.

Remy contemplates on how best to answer this, but it doesn't look like Peebee's mischief is raring to play anymore. Remy sighs as she opens the laptop and starts typing. _[She's always nibbling something when she works. Caught her chewing her own hoodie's string this time, thought I'd offer mine.]_

" _Pfft,_ seriously? _That's_ why you had me running for a stupid sweater?" Peebee chuckles, but it doesn't get much more than that. Remy doesn't like it. She'd prefer them goading and stoking each other's flames, taunting relentlessly. This version of the asari is too quiet. Remy needs a distraction from the thoughts that lurk to rip her apart. "You really like Suvi, huh? Why? I mean she's nice and easy on the eyes, but I wouldn't go out of my way hunting sweaters down."

Technically she did. But at least this is the distraction Remy needs, and she doesn't hesitate with her answer for a single second. _[Look at me. Take a real good look at me.]_ She smiles weakly when Peebee's brow furrows in confusion, but she does. She looks up and down, only growing more puzzled by the second.

 _[I can't do jack shit as I am now. I can't even say 'jack shit'.]_ She smirks when Peebee sniggers. _[Suvi's been by me this entire time when she's not obligated to. She's giving me **her** time. Me. And_ _—cheesiness aside_ _—time is the most precious gift you can give somebody, because you can't do nothing without it. You bet your ass I'm going to go all out for a woman like that. Big or small.]_ Remy pauses. Her smile grows when she enters a new line. _[Even if I can't offer her anything except this sweater's string, but it'll be the first string attaching us.]_

For some reason, Peebee looks positively _disgusted._ She scoffs as she turns the remnant leg on it's other side. "Why would you want strings? That's just baggage you don't need; always holds you back." The way she says that leaves Remy doubting the sincerity behind those words, for some reason. She can't quite pick out why, but she doesn't believe the asari.

And she has the perfect way to get it through such a woman too.

 _[Because the best things in life come with strings.]_

"What?! Now you're full of shit. What things?" Peebee barks out a wry laugh, but her curiosity is unmistakable and she leans over to read as Remy types.

 _[For example: guitars. Cheese strings. Heart strings. String quartet. A string of swear words.]_ She grins wickedly as she watches Peebee's face fall flat. Then light up. _[And of course, g-strings. Only if someone else wears them anyways.]_

"Okay, you've got a point there." Peebee chuckles, diving back into working with the remnant legs with more _life_ in her hands. Much better.

Why is Remy working so hard to cheer her up anyways?

 _[Jokes aside, anything can turn into baggage. Even when that person isn't there anymore.]_ Sophie... _[And there's really no point in life unless we have someone to share it with. Makes the baggage lighter when two people are carrying it.]_

"What the heck are you talking about?" Peebee frowns. "The _person_ is the baggage."

 _[If they're adding to your problems, sure. I don't know about your situation, but Suvi's been helping me_ _—helping keep my mind off all this bullshit too. She's been supporting me even when there's nothing in it for her.]_ Remy catches the way the asari's hands pause for a fraction of a second, a thoughtful look glazing over her features. Remy doesn't let her look away from the laptop and positions it directly in front of Peebee, hunching over to reach the keyboard. _[Something tells me whoever you're looking at as 'baggage' is doing the same for you.]_

"Ugh, you really are annoying, you know that?" Peebee grumbles, grabbing the second remnant leg. Does she even know what she's doing? She's just randomly tightening bolts that will have to be _cut off_ anyways. The leg is just an excuse not to look up, it seems. "She's not doing nothing for me." She looks up to read Remy's message, and vivid anger flashes across her eyes.

 _[She gave you this sweater.]_

"She didn't give it. I stole it from her," Peebee seethes through her teeth, refusing to look at the laptop screen. "She's not doing nothing for me," she repeats, then stops. She looks up. "What makes you think my baggage is the jerk with the stupid sweater, anyways?"

Remy smiles as she shrugs, setting her laptop aside instead.

"Oh~ no, you're not getting away that easily. Type it!"

Remy shrugs again. She drags one of the remnant legs over and sets it between her thighs, eye-balling the measurements of where she'll have to cut the leg. She's not totally surprised when Peebee groans and shoots off from the chair, storming out the med-bay. Remy chuckles to herself when she hears a faint indignant yell after the doors close—she's not entirely sure, but she's willing to bet the asari's cursing her name.

All that talk has left her reflecting, too. So much came out of her without thought, and she truly hasn't been thinking about these things prior to that unexpected confession. After everything that's happened so far, she should've expected Peebee to be one of the first to deride her, and yet Remy still laid it all out on the table.

Honestly, even she's skeptical of her own feelings. Is she bonding only because Suvi is the one that's taking the time to visit her? Remy still doesn't know of their intentions with her... But with the way Suvi acts—and reacts—is too good to be considered mere acting. Besides, even if they intend to do something with her, it's not like it can be any worse than what her life was like on Kadara. She's got new legs and remnant data—both highly valuable pieces that were given to her, and for what? It's not like she bargained for any of it.

Maybe these people are _genuinely_ good people. Maybe. There's still the krogan... But maybe he was just doing a krogan greeting? If almost killing her is a fucking greeting for them, anyways. What little she remembers of the incident all screams evidence otherwise, though. Why did he want to kill her?

Well, why the hell _not?_ He's not the first to try.

Remy sighs, trying to focus on the legs before her mind wanders to less hospitable places. Her stomach rumbles. She looks over at the empty bed, and the empty terminal, and the empty chair. She _could_ call the doctor... But she's nothing if not an opportunist. Remy grins devilishly as she drags her laptop over, opening the Tempest's messaging system—the list of names that pop up go way over her head, save for a few people. She opens her last chat with Suvi.

What to say, what to say... Remy _could_ genuinely express her hunger, but getting food is just the bonus. Seeing and teasing Suvi is still her favorite hobby.

 _[I'm hungry.]_

There, a simple message. Send. Wait. Wait. Wait... Remy **hates** waiting. Hopefully Suvi's still awake, or pacing and freaking out somewhere on this ship. Would she be freaking out? That part is still hard to gauge with how calm and collected she's been. She's recovered numerous times already; by the end of this week, she's going to be a pro at coming back even if she's flustered or embarrassed. Now that's strength right there; Remy would forever hide under a rock.

Ugh, what's taking Suvi so long? Maybe she's sleeping.

Or showering.

Remy definitely approves. She wouldn't mind going for another one, but there's nobody to carry her. She looks down at her legs—all the more reason to figure out how she can fit these to her.

...Maybe she can join Suvi's shower in the future too.

" _Fuck._ " If that doesn't light a fire under her ass, she doesn't know what else will. It's nigh impossible to stop her mind from wandering; it's almost sad that _this_ is more motivational than the need to walk again. Priorities? It's another tease to bank for now. Hopefully she'll get to use it—and soap—on Suvi someday.

If she ever comes back here.

Can she hurry up just a tad? It's been a year since Remy's sent the message. She looks at the clock. Nevermind, it's been a minute. Her head whips up when the doors open. Her heart plummets to her stomach; a stomach that growls incessantly at the promise of food. A man with a tray walks over and sets it on the table, though his gaze is glued to the legs. There's an eagerness to his eyes, and he helps himself to one of the legs. Remy shoots out and grabs his wrist, glaring. Who the hell does this guy think he is?

"Whoa~ easy there fireball, I won't take it away. Just want to see what I'm working with," he chuckles, raking a hand through his spiky hair. "I'm Gil, the Tempest's engineer. Suvi sent me here to help you design your new legs." He jerks his head to the tray of food. There's a snake hiding behind that sly smirk of his. "She also mentioned you're hungry."

Uh huh. She's _mentioned_ something else to him too, didn't she?

That was fast work though; was she with him then? Maybe she was freaking out and he was her shoulder. There's too many questions—too much disappointment too. Remy wants _Suvi,_ not this guy. She dejectedly drags her laptop over, wishing to at least get a _glimpse_ of the person she actually wants to type to. _[Is Suvi okay?]_

"She is." Gil's smirk widens as he sits down, chuckles spilling out. "You have to see your face right now, you look so disappointed. I'm sorry I'm not your girlfriend."

There's something about this guy that just makes it _so damn easy_ to reach over and punch his shoulder. Gil laughs, and it's contagious, and Remy can't help but smirk too. His face is screaming it all: Suvi's _definitely_ freaking out somewhere on this ship. Remy props herself to sit up a little straighter as she gets her tray of food, stuffing her face as she watches him keenly. He better not screw up her legs.

"These hip sockets are massive. Good thing you just need these from the knee down." What? How does he know that? He hasn't seen her with the sheets off, has he? Maybe... It'd explain why he's acting awfully comfortable already. "Might lose an inch or two in height, gonna be hard learning how to walk in these too. You'll probably feel like a quarian or something." Gil picks up the leg and bends the knee, then looks at Remy. "I can reshape these to look and function more like our legs though."

Remy frowns and sets her tray aside to grab her laptop. _[You might as well build the legs I had before then. Did Lexi put you up to this?]_

"What? No. Was just a suggestion." He shrugs as he goes back to playing with the limb. "Won't it be harder for you to learn how to walk in this? Looks like it can move in all sorts of angles. I ain't a doctor, but our bodies won't know how to react and compensate for limbs that move like this."

 _[Then I'll be the first to figure it out if it's possible. If not, then I can build the legs I had before, but I want to at least try this. Didn't travel to a new galaxy to use old stuff.]_ Remy picks up the mug of steaming tea, trying to ignore the pang gnawing a hole in her stomach. God, she already misses Suvi, and they barely know each other. _  
_

Gil sniggers, nodding along. "I can get behind that. Alright then, let's get to work."

Remy makes a passing glance at the door. Peebee would want in on this project. The data on her USB alone proves just how much she loves remnant technology; but will she come back right now? Probably not. Remy rakes her hand through her hair, wincing when some strands tug on the bandages wrapped around her head. Right. Brain surgery and concussion and all that; she probably shouldn't try to think too hard about this without Lexi's clearance first—especially since it's been a while since she's done any tests to see how much she's recovered. Her head drops in defeat.

"Uh..." Gil dips his head down to get in her vision. "Everything okay? You're not about to burst into tears, are you? Need me to get your girlfriend?"

Remy laughs dryly, setting her tea aside to give him a punch across the shoulder. She doesn't want to explain all that shit to him though. So she nods.

Because all she's been wanting this entire time is Suvi, anyways.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Hey, Suvi, she needs you." _No!_ "She's about to burst into tears." He sounds so~ unconvinced by that. Remy just wants to tease, doesn't she?

Not that Suvi truly minds.

" _Shite,_ " she mutters under her breath, chewing her lip as she strains a smile and looks over her chair, waving at Gil. "I'll be there in five minutes."

"She thought you'd say that," Gil grins wickedly. Great. He's in on this too. "It's too long. Which is why she's about to burst into tears."

"Oh!" Suvi shoos with her hand, laughing as she turns back in her chair. "Both of you are horrible!"

"C'mon, she likes you. Should've seen the look on her face when I walked in—you could _hear_ her heart breaking." Gil walks up to her station, leaning over as he helps himself to her terminal. He shuts everything down and shoots her a smug look when she pretends to pout. "From everything you've told me so far, it's obvious you like her too, so stop over-thinking and go with your gut. Dive in there. We've come up with a few possible blueprints so it shouldn't be long before I come back with a design. You won't be alone in there forever."

Suvi averts her gaze back to the shut down terminal. "Is she still going to try fitting herself with the remnant legs?"

Gil sucks in a breath. "Yeah." He shifts in his spot. "Not gonna lie, I didn't bother trying to change her mind."

"Honestly... I don't think anyone can anyways." Suvi sighs as she climbs out of her seat, taking Gil's offered hand. "Thanks for taking the time to do all of this though, Gil. I feel much better knowing you're working on this too."

"No problem, Suvi." He smiles, waving over his shoulder as he leaves the bridge. "I'll be working in the cargo bay if you need a shoulder. Or another special delivery."

Suvi chuckles as she shakes her head, turning back to her terminal and staring out into space, trying to calm herself as her heart beats faster and faster. If she goes back to Remy, who knows what will happen between them now? Suvi's not ready. And she's ready. But she's really not ready. And she's really _really_ ready.

Will she ever make up her mind?

She wants—needs—time. She doesn't want to dive in. She doesn't trust her gut and doesn't want to see where the sea takes her. She wants to _know,_ and she still gets this nagging inkling that Remy isn't all in with her; so what's in the way? What's stopping that? Is Remy holding back because she's just as unsure as Suvi? Maybe she's not the only one who's doubting how things have progressed this much, this quickly. Maybe she's not the only one that's terrified.

...But she's traveled all this way, delving into the heart of the unknown. All she has to do is switch it up a bit; delve into an unknown heart.

There's no way to know until she tries and takes the first step. Suvi steels herself and grabs her laptop—her _excuse_ —as she heads out, taking her sweet time carefully climbing down the ladder. Goosebumps break out even if she's boiling, but shivering at the same time. Her hoodie's stuffy. It's unbearably hot all of a sudden—harder to breathe with every step she takes to the med-bay. She hasn't felt this nauseating buzzing in her stomach for a long, _long_ time.

If all hell breaks loose, she can just use her laptop and say there's a lot of work that needs to be done—which isn't entirely untrue. There's always reports to do and samples to study. Yes. A backup plan. She feels much better knowing that she can run away, guilt-free. Sort of. Guilt trickles in at that thought alone. Will she ever win her own debates?

Suvi sighs, shoulders sagging in defeat. "It's now or never," she whispers, trying to egg herself on to just head inside the med-bay and figure it out from there. She keeps nearing, then walking away, pacing about. Every time she comes close to the doors, her heart surges to her throat. "I can do this. I can do this. I _can_ do this."

Remy isn't frightening. She's endearing. She's fun, and funny, and silly, and unreasonable in all the best ways possible. She has a spark of life in her—she _is_ the spark of life. Talking to her is as refreshing as breathing in fresh air, and learning about her is _nearly_ on par as making a discovery about this galaxy, feeding Suvi's insatiable curiosity.

"I can do this."

All the wonderful things are waiting in there, and yet Suvi's breaking out in _cold sweat,_ out of fear. Why? What is she scared of? That it can all slip away, for one. She's not been entirely honest with Remy. She doesn't know how much time they have left, and the seed of doubt that the Pathfinder's implanted in Suvi is tormenting her relentlessly. She wants— **needs** —to know if Remy's innocent of the crime the Pathfinder's accused her of.

"I can do this."

No she can't. She really can't. She really wants to. But she _can't._ Suvi stands dumbly in front of the doors, closing her stinging eyes as her head lulls back. She wants this to work _so bad._ All she has to do is just ask for the truth, right? Would Remy tell her though?

Only one way to find out.

Suvi sucks in a breath and musters the courage to input the code, opening the med-bay's doors. And she stands slack-jawed, almost groaning in disappointment, as all tension in her body rushes out.

Remy's asleep.

"Took too long..." Suvi chastises herself under her breath, reluctantly heading to take her chair—her second home. She steals a peek at the food tray, smiling at the sight of the empty mug; victory for North Sumatra and their tea once again. Suvi will get a kick out of teasing Remy for that later. Every good thing is immediately met with resistance, and Suvi sinks in her chair as she takes her hoodie's string in her mouth. It doesn't escape her notice that Remy's wearing a hoodie too.

...And an Initiative one?

Suvi sets her laptop on the plinth, scooting closer to get a better look at the patch. That's the Initiative logo, alright. Where did Remy get this? Does she _know_ she's wearing it or did someone force it on her, unsuspecting? The impression she's left Suvi has not exactly been a hopeful one, but maybe there is hope after all.

So many questions, so little courage. Suvi doesn't dare wake Remy up though. She's still not ready. Sort of. Her cheeks warm and she tries to forget what happened only a mere few hours ago, how _close_ she was to that mouth, and how ready she was to kiss it. This see-saw ride is exhausting. She buries herself in her laptop, trying to distract herself with data. It doesn't work. She nibbles on her string harder, making a passing glance at Remy. Her heart melts.

 _Shite._

Remy's chewing on her string too.

Instinct overwhelms Suvi, and she rises from her chair as quietly as possible. She grabs the headboard as she leans down, trying to quell the thunder roaring in her chest as her blood buzzes in her ears.

Without thinking, she lowers, aiming to kiss Remy's cheek.

Who shifts.

Suvi accidentally kisses on the lips—and the bloody string—and immediately pulls back, flustered, looking down at a now wide-eyed Remy.

Who hooks a hand on Suvi's nape and pulls her back for a _real_ kiss.

...With the bloody string.


	18. Chapter 18

**The Lucifer Effect**

* * *

Remy taps Suvi's arm urgently. She **NEEDS** to get her message out or she will genuinely burst into tears. It's heartbreaking enough just to be split from Suvi for this—even if it's an inch away.

Remy prays that the opportunity she's seized won't slip away after this. She watches Suvi keenly as the dazed woman activates her omni-tool. Flustered, speechless, warm cheeks. Remy can feel the heat from here. She grins devilishly—still doesn't take the string out her mouth too. She probably should with how much it got in the way and made kissing even harder; hopefully she'll get to practice so that her lip movements have a little more _finesse._

Reaching for Suvi's omni-tool, Remy types. _[Lock the doors or Peebee **WILL** die if she interrupts us again.]_

Suvi laughs—the contagious belly-aching laughter. There's a sheepish quality to it; is she embarrassed? Hope not. Remy will do whatever it takes to get that second kiss. If Suvi doesn't come close enough to be pulled the rest of the way, Remy _will_ crawl off this god damn bed. There's a creepy image: Suvi running away with a crazy half-mummy woman crawling after her. It's got the makings of a horrible horror movie.

As Suvi heads over to the doors—hopefully to lock and not run away—Remy unravels the bandages on her hand and searches for the buttons to bring the bed up. She's so hyped up, buzzing with energy, that it takes several tries to try to find the right button. The plinth creaks incessantly, and Remy growls in frustration when she keeps getting the one with her legs.

How many fucking buttons are there?

Soft chuckles draw her gaze back to Suvi, who comes back— _yes!_ —and walks around the plinth to adjust the bed. "Would you like to sit up, Remy?"

Is that a serious question? If she could, she'd stand up. She nods eagerly, her mouth curling in a lopsided grin in reaction to the melodic sounds coming out from Suvi. Her laughter's contagious, big or small. Her smile too. Eyes. Lips. Everything, really.

Can she hurry it up a _wee_ bit faster? They have serious lip therapy'ing to do.

"Your hand looks much better," Suvi notes idly as she leans down, searching for the buttons. She fixes the legs and slowly brings the back up, stealing little glances at Remy, smiling shyly every time. It's driving Remy crazy already. The second the bed halts, she takes off the blankets and shimmies over to the edge, grabbing Suvi's hands when they protectively shoot out towards her.

 _It's okay,_ Remy wants to say. She doesn't want to ruin the moment though, and keeps her lips firmly sealed. She hopes her gesture alone says it all. She pulls gently, trying to calm herself so that her eagerness doesn't blow this all up. She doesn't trust herself not to. She _ought_ to ask Suvi if it's really okay, but all she can think about is closing the distance. Just as she does, Suvi leans back with an apologetic smile.

 _No!_

"W-wait..." she breathes shakily, looking down at the floor.

Remy's inwardly screaming in her mind; Suvi's uttered the worst word to ever exist. She still has yet to find out just how much Remy hates to wait, but it won't be long. No matter how much her hands scream otherwise, Remy starts to let go. Her fingers are caught and hooked under Suvi's, who shakes her head and looks up.

"Wait."

No, really, that needs to be obliterated from her vocabulary. It will be, someday. _Count on it._

As much as it hurts, Remy tries not to rush them. She hopes that the locked doors and Suvi standing in front of her is a good sign—a promise, even. She needs to prove she's worth the wait too. There's so much she can do—so much she _will_ do—as soon as she gets her legs. She doesn't need to talk. Actions have always spoken louder. There are things she can build and things she can do to prove that the West is unequivocally far better than the North. Ugh, what a sore spot... But she'll win the debate somehow, someday.

"Suvi," Remy blurts, trying not to let her spirits drop at just how _dumb_ she sounds—like she's fried her brain by hitting up that Oblivion shit on Kadara. Talking is still so sluggish; but this is the only word she wants to practice anyways.

That, and _hurry up._

Suvi waits, and waits, and waits. Hopefully she's not waiting for more, but she looks like she might be. That hope in her eyes is a telling sign.

It's Remy's turn to look down.

...And a gentle hand cups her chin, guiding her back up.

"Try?" Suvi asks. She doesn't know—well, she does—what she's asking for. "For me?" Yeah. She definitely knows.

Remy still averts her gaze off to the side, but she's held in place. " _Fuck,_ " she mumbles sullenly, smiling when Suvi chuckles.

"If those two words come without effort, just imagine everything else with just a little bit of practice."

 _There's a difference between favorite words and just words, Suvi._ If only Remy could say all of that too. She can type it, but she's got a pretty strong feeling she won't be allowed to. The problem right now is that she doesn't even know what else she wanted to say. She blurted the name just because. Why not, right?

But now she has to think of something to say, and she's trying to think of something schmoozy and woozy that'll make Suvi's knees weak and get down and boogie with their lip therapy'ing; which is never going to happen in a million years. Not the silly way Remy is imagining it, anyways. It'd be pretty hot if she'd be flattened on the bed with Suvi on top of her, though. Maybe strip their hoodies. And the hospital gown and uniform and everything in between.

Yeah, so these are examples of all the things she shouldn't say right now.

Maybe Remy's moving a _wee_ bit too fast. Maybe she should wait, but she really doesn't want to. She wants to connect. She needs to show she's worth Suvi's time... But does she have to prove it? She musters the courage to meet Suvi's gaze—she's still waiting patiently, fucking christ. Remy is driving _herself_ nuts with how long she's taking.

A thumb traces the bottom of her lips, and every part of her is charged to just pull this woman closer and _talk_ another way; and she finally figures out what she wants to say.

"K-k...ih-ssss?"

Suvi rolls her eyes, but her nose starts to take on a red hue. "I should've expected that." She meets Remy's eyes, worrying her lip between teeth. Remy wants to be the one that does that, but she forces herself to wait. All good things come to those who do, right? But it's taking so damn long. Does Remy have to fake-sleep again? She draws her elbows back as she squeezes Suvi's fingers, pulling her closer. Her stomach knots uncomfortably when a guilty look crosses Suvi's face.

"Remy..." Suvi sighs, her grip loosening. Remy won't let her go. "I want to."

Okay. So kiss?

"But I can't."

Okay. So no kiss.

"W-w—" Remy frowns in frustration, eyebrows furrowing. She already wants to give up with how long it's going to ask one damn question. She knows Suvi won't let her though. Seems like they're doing a lot of that to each other right now. She groans when she sees those big beady hopeful eyes. Well, _f_ _ine!_ Jeez... Remy deserves a goddamn medal for this.

Better yet: a kiss.

Mm. She might be slightly obsessive right now.

"W-w-oh..." Her nose crinkles. That's not the direction she wants to head in, but fuck it. Got to start somewhere; it'll be just like tanks. "W-oh-y?"

Suvi smiles sadly. _No!_ Wipe that off! No smiles unless happy smiles.

And kisses.

"Because it wouldn't be right." Suvi sucks in a small breath, looking away again. She's losing her nerve. Remy decides to be the one to rub her thumbs along Suvi's palms, smiling when she catches that faint flicker tugging at the corner of the woman's mouth. She wants to smile, she does; which means it's the worst fucking sign possible if there's something weighing so heavily that she's not _allowing_ herself to smile.

Hoping to inject some humor, Remy tries again, going for a toddler-voice. "Why?"

Suvi chuckles, but it's mirthless. Not acceptable. Her head drops and she shakes it. Also not acceptable. "God, you really like to make things hard for me."

Well, _yeah._ Favorite hobby, hello?

"It wouldn't be right, because I haven't been..." Suvi stops, nibbling on her lip. Remy rubs along the palms a little firmer, but finally takes this seriously. Her smile fades when worry and anxiety needles in, amplifying her doubts. She can only guess what Suvi wants to confess—and the wait feels like it might honestly make her _explode_ now.

But still, she holds on.

"Ih-tsss oh-kuh-a-ee." It takes her ages, but it's still okay. She wants to encourage. She wants a genuine smile, and she smiles when she seems to get one—it disappears again when Suvi closes her eyes. Her hands are shaking. Remy's had enough; she pulls closer, not for a kiss, but for a hug. This made her feel worlds better when Suvi did it for her. Remy rests her chin on Suvi's shoulder and holds firmly, closing her eyes as she feels the entire body in her arms quiver.

It's freaking her the fuck out, honestly.

Suvi's always given the impression of being calm, and strong, and warm and fearless and all these wonderful things that Remy just couldn't help but be attracted to. She has no idea how to be strong—someone else has always been the strong one for her. All she can do is what others have done for her, and she can't help but feel like that's not enough.

That _she's_ not enough.

If only there was something she could do or say to ease Suvi completely.

Remy sighs when she feels something wet touch her neck, as a face tucks against it. She dreamed of this, but in a good way, where smiles touched her neck instead. She rubs circles along Suvi's back, hoping it's as soothing as how it was for her. "Iht'sss oh-ka-ee."

God, just what has Remy done? Yet another thing she's done recklessly, and as usual, it's blown up. Kissing should be good, and fun, and pleasurable. Not this. She shouldn't have pushed and rushed, she should've set it up but wait for Suvi to make the move, just like the last attempt. Now she's been pushed too far; and even worse, she seems to feel guilty for it too. It's not her fault. It's Remy's. Hopefully Suvi knows that.

It's another thing to practice. "I-I-'mmm sss-oh-ohruh-rrr-eee ff-iorrr kihss." Holy shit, she's going like a train on some of these syllables. Hopefully it really will only take practice until speech is just a tad bit more refined than this.

"No, no, it's not your fault, Remy."

It's a wonder how Suvi even understands what she's saying.

Suvi stills, takes a deep breath, but never pulls away. She hugs harder—crushing, actually. Remy desperately tries not to groan when her ribs start to ache.

Don't complain, ribs! These are the best kinds of hugs! Shut up! There shall be no listening to such blasphemy today.

"I'm the one that should be sorry," Suvi mumbles, her arms tightening. Remy's inner thoughts are rapidly spiraling down into a chaotic warzone. She tries to listen, she really does, but she's just a tad bit preoccupied with trying to fucking _breathe._ Well, she asked for this, so too bad so sad. "I haven't been open with you. You could probably tell I've been holding back."

Uh, not really. The kissing and talking has been pretty grand. Well, she's holding back now—sort of, not really. Holding too tight, more like. Not that Remy's complaining.

Her ribs are crying.

Okay, seriously, Remy. Get with the program. Suvi needs reassurance here. Remy's _pretty_ sure that whatever it is Suvi's feeling guilty about is actually okay. Maybe her last relationship turned sour and that's why she's 'holding back', whatever she's holding back on. Remy can relate to that. It's perfectly okay; well not really, it sucks that it happened to Suvi—and nobody ever fuck the asshole who hurt her—but it's _ohhhh-kaaaaay._

"But the reason is... Well... I've been holding back because of those children you were looking after."

Okay.

Still okay.

Remy fails to see what the problem is. The ominous dread twisting her stomach doesn't bode well though. She stiffens when Suvi pulls away, stepping back completely, breaking their link. Suvi doesn't meet her eyes. "And the Pathfinder suspects you might've... Harmed their parents."

Okay.

 **Not** okay.

Remy regrets asking Suvi to lock the doors now; not that it matters, since she can't run away anyways, legs or not.

There's no running away from the truth.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Lexi, this is not what I had in mind to clear my mind. I didn't say I wanted to die and go to _permanent_ sleep." Sara seethes weakly through her exhale, and she shoots a deadpan glare when Lexi chuckles beside her. "Hot yoga? Seriously. What the _fuck?_ "

"It will expend everything in your system. Think of it this way: we have neurococktails, and mental stressors like these will—"

"I'm going to save you time and energy—" Sara grunts as she follows Lexi's lead into the next pose, the downward dog; she's trying to ignore the sweat _leaking_ from places she never knew could even sweat. "—I'm only listening with like a quarter of my attention right now. Everything else is either screaming at how crazy I am, or at how crazy you are. Please tell me you don't actually _like_ doing this."

"I love doing this."

"You're fucking crazy, Lexi."

Lexi laughs wryly. She makes all of this look so effortless, meanwhile Sara's limbs feel like jelly and she swears she's going to pass out soon. "This hot yoga stuff should've been part of the training regime to toughen up mental discipline. This is harder than getting up at 5 AM and running for half the frigging day."

"I'm pleased to hear that." Sadist. "After this, we're doing cold showers."

"What?!"

"And you're going to tell yourself you love cold showers."

"This is a joke, right?"

"I'm very serious, Pathfinder. Your body perceives many things as a threat. If we undo that and tell it that we _love_ it, it will stop perceiving it as a threat and you will enjoy it instead. So we start small: we love hot yoga, and we love cold showers. Eventually, we'll work up towards and say that we love everything that comes with being a Pathfinder."

"...Is it too late to beg Harry to come back?" This has to be a joke. It sounds too simple for it to work _that_ easily, and Sara remains skeptical... But every time she steals a glance at Lexi—who's sweating just as much, if not more—she sincerely seems like she's at peace, and she's _smiling._ Meanwhile, Sara's been bitching this whole time.

It's worth a try.

Sara sighs as she closes her eyes, trying to straighten the muscles that are burning from holding the stretch for so long. Didn't Lexi say something about holding it for 6 minutes until the body just lets go? It feels like it's been a year, but it's probably only been a minute. Right, just... Give it a try.

"I love hot yoga," she mutters. "I love this. I love how much my legs are fucking shaking and how much they want to die."

"No negative thoughts whatsoever. All positive. You love the burn and the stretch and how much they're relaxing over time."

"You're killing me here, Lexi."

"I'm sure it's something you're used to."

Fuck. She's got a point. Sara grumbles and sighs again. "Positive, I can do that. I love hot yoga." No she doesn't. "I love hot yoga." No, she really fucking doesn't.

"You don't have to say it out loud."

"Are you saying I'm annoying?"

"It's disturbing my affirmations."

So that's a yes, whatever the hell that even means.

Silence envelops them. Sara shoots an exasperated look, but Lexi's eyes are closed. She's smiling though. Sara huffs. "You're a bully."

"Positive thoughts, Pathfinder."

"Fu—"

"Positive," Lexi interjects pointedly.

"Positive fuck with a fucking plus sign."

"Focus, Pathfinder." Lexi opens her eyes and looks over. "And lock out your knees so you get a better stretch in your hamstrings too."

Sara groans melodramatically, wanting to flail and cry on her floor. She needs to make sure she can break the thermostat so that it never reaches this level of hot in her room _ever again._ "What did I ever do to you to get this treatment?"

 _"Pathfinder,_ _"_ SAM chimes on the room's speakers. Please save Sara, SAM. _"Peebee is requesting to speak with you in her room."_

Yes! God bless this AI!

"Must be super important, Pathfinder-important! Cya later Lexi!" Sara pushes herself up and tries to make a fucking sprint for it, and just barely catches herself before she trips. Every part of her body feels like jello, and she's positive—with a fucking plus sign—that she's walking like she's drunk. Lexi says something but Sara doesn't hear it; she's buzzing with energy and her mind has yet to catch up with her. It's screaming for some reason.

It isn't until she's standing right in front of Peebee that it finally knocks the wind out of her; she rushed here out of blind habit.

Peebee blinks incredulously, giving Sara a once over. "What the hell happened to you? You're drenched." She pinches her nose. "Stinky, too."

Frozen, Sara just stands, slack-jawed. Her mind's stopped screaming for her attention, but now it's launched an entirely new assault to tell her what a freaking _idiot_ she is. She's come woefully unprepared. Emotions are... Surprisingly somewhat more tame than she thought she'd have to deal with. Honestly, anything seems like a cakewalk compared to that hot fucking yoga. Maybe there's some merit in it.

"Hello? Andromeda to Pathfinder?" Peebee waves right in front of Sara's face, snapping her out of her reverie. Then it hits her: she's been requested to come here. To talk. She can't help but smile. "Uh, are you alright?" She's even being asked that! _Yes!_ Is the cold war over then? "Did you lose your mind on the way here or somethin'?"

Sara still can't answer. She doesn't trust her voice, and she's lost in utter bliss that she's _here_ and Peebee's talking _to_ her and she's in _this_ room once again. She longs to reach and touch, to close the distance, even if it's just as simple as a pat on the shoulder. She can't talk, but she can still express herself in another way. A way that never fails to bring a smile to Peebee's face—no matter how hard she tries not to—as she affectionately mutters 'dork' under her breath.

"SAM, music."

"Oh~ fuck no, not this!" Peebee groans, turning around and marching into her escape pod. "I'm hiding! Go away!" Okay, so maybe the smiling and the 'dork' hasn't yet come, but it will! Eventually. Probably only in Sara's dreams, but she'll never pass up the chance to tease Peebee like this too.

"C'mon Peebee! Everything is better and more epic with music. Music is life!" Sara grins mischievously as she hastily follows, laughing when she feels an invisible force push her by her stomach. She grabs on to the bars and tries to push her way in regardless, knowing she really could be throttled back if Peebee _really_ wanted to throw her ass out of here.

Why did Peebee ask her to come here anyways? If she needed something, she'd have gotten right to the point—just like the sweater. Sara can't help but hope for the best... But she doesn't see her sweater anywhere. So she holds back, not wanting to feel what she did on the tram all over again. The pushing against her stomach stops, the music softly playing. Both stare at the other, but it's... Distant. There's only a meter of space between them.

Sara yells at herself to just ask _one_ of her hundred questions, but she still can't muster the courage. She jumps in her skin when SAM chimes on their private channel.

 _"Shall I play one of Ellen's songs?"_

Sara chuckles, her head hanging forward. She barely misses Peebee's confused look. "That'll make things corny, SAM."

 _"But it'll also bring comfort. Playing Hallelujah."_

Piano springs to life, and the familiar melody burrows in every part of Sara's muscles. She can perfectly imagine every key, every chord struck. She can't help but laugh when she looks up at Peebee, who looks absolutely baffled. "SAM chose the perfect song." She takes a risk, takes the leap of faith even if every part of her is yelling at her to stay back, to gather more information, to make the _smart_ decision and not heed the reckless emotions.

With every step, lyrics echo in the back of her head, and she can't help but relate it to this right now; maybe SAM understands a whole lot more about music—and her, and _them_ —than he lets on. "You don't really care for music, do ya? But it goes like this," Sara murmurs, braving to reach, swallowing the lump in her throat when Peebee doesn't jerk away as they hook fingers. "The fourth, the fifth. The minor fall, the major lift. The baffled king composing Hallelujah." She smiles sheepishly when the puzzled look grows. "I'm horrible at singing; I promise the song's much better. I'll have to find you the version with lyrics. This is one of my mum's covers."

"Your mom is the one that plays all those piano songs you've got?" Peebee's head tilts, though her gaze constantly skitters down to her hands. It's hard to gauge whether she's into this, or repulsed by it. "So that's why you're always wearing those headphones." She stares at their joined fingers, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "She still in cryo or something? You miss her?"

Pain sears deep, but the wound is old. It doesn't sting as much anymore—but it stings to realize that Sara hasn't told Peebee this.

She's shared herself, but never _about_ herself.

Taking a deep breath, Sara shrugs halfheartedly. She looks down as she swings their hooked fingers, indexes curled around each other. "No, she passed away. But I do miss her." She smiles weakly. "Music is the only thing I have left from her. I... Still haven't been able to let her go." Sara chews her lip, chuckling wryly. "You probably think that's lame, huh? She's not around anymore, so I should stop moping about the past and look forward to the future."

"Nah, it's not lame. Would be if you didn't miss her at all. Mom's mom. You're supposed to miss people like that, especially when they aren't a part of your future."

Sara's head snaps up in surprise; she didn't expect _that_ out of Peebee's mouth. Maybe Peebee hasn't shared _about_ herself as much as she's shared herself. "So does that mean you miss your mum too?" Sara smirks playfully, squeezing the finger trapped in hers. "And your rural log cabin on Hyetiana?"

Peebee snorts. "Don't push it, Ryder."

Ryder. Not Pathfinder. But she won't push it. She can afford to wait; this here is already a whole lot more than she imagined she would ever get. Why did Peebee change her mind though? She seemed awfully determined to keep up the cold shoulder act even after she plucked Sara's hoodie right off her.

Suddenly, Peebee lets go. She turns Sara by the shoulders and shoves her out the escape pod, then out the room too. "Alright, that's enough for now. Go shower, stinky."

"Wha—?"

"And find me that song!"

With that, the doors shut behind Sara. She looks over her shoulder; her turn to be baffled this time. The doors are locked.

"What... Just happened?" She still has no clue why she was asked to come over, or what Peebee wanted to see, or hear, or feel.

Does it matter? At least Peebee's given her a little time out of her day. Sara couldn't do nothing before without it. She's going to make sure she makes every second matter.

But as she makes her way to the showers, she can't help but think on the lyrics of the song. It refuses to let her go. "Maybe there's a God above," she whispers under her breath. "But all I've ever learned from love was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya." She frowns at herself. Why is this the set that's stuck in her mind? Ominous. She feels pretty good about what just happened with her and Peebee though.

And then she slides down the ladder.

Her heart drops to the pits of her stomach when she catches Suvi storm out the med-bay, wiping her eyes. They both freeze when they meet each other's gaze. Sara stays right where she is, not wanting to approach and scare Suvi, chasing her off; but then Suvi rushes closer, colliding and hugging Sara desperately.

 _Uh..._ _?_

Is the only thought running through Sara's mind; besides wondering how Suvi is still alive with the body odor. Sara carefully wraps her arms around Suvi, shushing soothingly as the poor woman muffles her tears against Sara's shoulder. "What's wrong, Suvi?" Sara asks as gently as she can, glancing over her shoulder when the doors to her room opens.

Fuck. Lexi. There's going to be no escaping the fucking cold showers for sure, now. Ugh, positive... Love cold showers. Yay. So much yay.

Nope. Still don't love them; but there's something that's far, _far_ worse than them.

"Y-you..." Suvi starts, broken, breaking off. She can't even stammer out syllables. Sara rubs her hand along Suvi's back, exchanging concerned looks with Lexi.

 _"Exile?"_ Sara mouths silently, and Lexi nods. She hastily rushes to the med-bay—probably to check on the exile's well-being. She doesn't have to yet, but she will after Sara's through with the exile, with whatever she's done to Suvi. Nobody messes with anybody on the Tempest and comes out unscathed. And Sara stiffens, paralyzed by the tiny words Suvi chokes out.

" _You were right._ "


	19. Chapter 19

**The Lucifer Effect**  
Author's Note: Please don't hate me, but this chapter is pretty much all angst for Suvi; really putting the burn in slow-burn, but I'm typing as fast as I can. My ideas sheet for the fluff and steam between S&R is way too long to stall any longer! Hope you all still find something to enjoy in this rough ride and have a lovely weekend. Thanks to all readers and reviewers for your support too, hang in there! All good things come to those who wait :)

* * *

"What did I just walk into?" Gil mutters as he stands at the precipice of a total shitstorm. Three women throw vicious glares at him; there's killing intent in two of them. Nobody needs to be a genius with math to know the odds are stacked against him. He quietly backs out of the med-bay with a remnant leg under each arm, sighing. He's excited for this project and he won't even get to play.

Looking up, Gil notices Suvi lying in her bunk inside the crew quarters and heads over to her. "Hey Suvi, got a terrible joke for ya; it's like the start of one of those old bar jokes. A doctor, pathfinder and exile enter the bay. Only one will make it out of there alive. It's like a wild west showdown in there right now; my money's on Lexi."

...Silence. Gil tries to peek over Suvi's shoulder, accidentally knocking his head off the edge of the top bunk. "Ow! Shit..." He carefully sets the legs on the empty bed up top, rubbing his forehead. He stops when he catches Suvi twisting her torso to look at him.

Her eyes are bloodshot.

Gil bites back a groan. He sits on Suvi's bunk, tucked against her legs, and holds out his arms to offer a comforting hug. "C'mon, bring it in." Does he want to ask what's gotten her like this? Probably not. He's got his guesses, and it doesn't take much to piece the puzzle together now that he's got two of the largest slots filled in. His money is on the exile dying now, that's for sure.

He frowns when Suvi sluggishly pushes herself up into sitting, barely moving enough to be brought in for a comfortable hug—nevermind comforting. Gil sighs as he adjusts and pulls her in tight, burying his mouth in her hair and closing his eyes when he feels little fingers claw and twist at his uniform, but there's no sound coming out of Suvi. She just trembles.

"Let it all out," he encourages quietly, patting her back. "After this, I'm treatin' you to my ale so you get some proper sleep in you. And forget whatever happened tonight." He waits for a response, but gets nothing. No yay, no nay. This is the first time he's seen Suvi like this. It better be the last.

His heart sinks when she muffles brokenly against his chest. "There's no forgetting tonight."

-—-—-—-—-—-

"All I'm asking for is your side of the story!" Sara seethes, irritated that the exile's shut her out and refuses to communicate back with her. "I have every reason to kick you off this ship right now, hell, I—" she stops when Remedy scoffs, using her omni-tool instead of the laptop.

 _[Go ahead. Kick me off. Exile me. I'm still just like any other exile in your eyes, anyways.]_

"You know what? Yeah, you are. Because you're not giving me anything else here." Sara holds out her hand to stop when she notices Lexi approach by her side. No. There's going to be no gentle talk here. The time for diplomacy is over. This exile wants an explosion; she's going to get one if she doesn't clean up her act and stop acting like a stubborn child. "You really want me to exile you, after everything you've been through? Knowing that you have treatment and tools and resources and a _second chance_ here, knowing you have a team that'll have your back?"

Remedy laughs wryly, typing dejectedly. There's honestly no short amount of words for her childish attitude right now. _[What fucking team?]_

"Wow~ if you really have to ask that, then you need eye surgery too." Sara holds up her hand directly in front of Remedy's face, persisting even when it's slapped away. That's fine. She can be just as passive aggressive. "Here, let me help. Count my fingers with me." She flips her middle finger first, her frustration rapidly rising as the two glare at each other. "One: me. Two: Lexi. Three: Peebee. Four: Gil. Do I _really_ have to say five, or are you going to pretend she doesn't exist anymore?"

" _Fuck y-y_ —" Remedy stops and stumbles over the same syllable over and over again, until she gives up, growls, and swats Sara's hand away.

Not like what she wants to say is a mystery anyways.

"You can clear your name right now. I'm offering that chance to you, and it's not something I offer often. Give Suvi peace. Tell the truth! What happened to those angara?"

 _[I already told her the truth. I killed them. There's nothing more to it.]_

Sara snaps and grabs Remedy by the neck of the hoodie—Sara's hoodie. Peebee went out of her goddamn way for this exile; that alone speaks volume, even if it stings. But it's _proof._ Everyone else has been seeing a different side to this exile but Sara.

But maybe she's the only one that sees the _real_ side.

"Cut the crap! You're not a cold-blooded killer, Remedy." The use of the name seems to get the exile riled up, as the implant in her eye glows brighter. Good. It's a reaction—a reckless one to boot, and it's only serving to prove Sara's next point. "Wanna know how I know that?" She lets go and lets the exile fall, jabbing a finger in Remedy's chest. "Because you're a hot-headed idiot. Anyone can see that. There's no such thing as 'there's nothing more to it', because when people like you blow up, you have a million excuses for it. I'm sure you're locked and loaded with plenty of them right now."

Remedy hits Sara's hand away again, lighting up her omni-tool. SAM's already ensured to override and lock down all of it's more dangerous functions. _[I'm done talking.]_ Not like she fucking started anyways. _[Drop me off Kadara, I don't trust any of you and I don't want to be here._ _End of story.]_

"You are really—mmng!" Sara clenches her fists, and throws her hands up in the air in surrender as she turns around and marches out. "The Tempest doesn't need this drama, we really don't. There are plenty more pressing issues and this isn't a soap opera. If acting like a tough girl is more important than Suvi, than being honest, then consider your wish granted; SAM, alert Kallo and let him know to change our destination to Kadara."

 _"At once, Pathfinder."_

"If you don't trust any of us here, good luck trusting anybody out there, _exile._ " Sara mutters as she charges out the med-bay, not bothering with instructing Lexi. She'll likely try to reach out to the exile, even if they all know it's pointless at this point.

Sara notices Gil in the crew quarters and peeks her head inside, frowning at the tuft of red hair hiding in bed sheets. Sara sighs and rakes her hand through her hair as she steels herself to deliver the worst possible news, stepping in to the quarters and trying to simmer her frustration down just enough to talk normally. She reigns control over her emotion the moment she slips into Pathfinder mode and knocks on the door frame to alert them of her presence; a crumpled smile tugs at her mouth when Gil looks over, but not Suvi.

"Gil, work with SAM to build the exact same legs the exile had before." She catches glimpse of remnant ones on the top bunk, catches the way Gil glances at them, catches the way the body hiding in the bunk curls more into a ball. Sara stands her ground. "We're heading to Kadara to drop her off. We shouldn't be far away, so the pressure's on to get it done."

This is what's best for everyone. For Suvi. And, with the attitude Remedy has, her too. If she wants it so badly, then fine; she'll learn her lesson the hard way.

"Just like that?" Gil asks, frowning. She senses something else in his tone and she doesn't like it. She's not the one who made this decision. The exile did. Just because Remedy is being irresponsible, doesn't mean she's absolved of responsibility.

"Just like that." Sara crosses her arms, shrugging. "I tried getting through to her. She's not interested and she's requested to return to Kadara, says she doesn't trust us or want to be here; this is on her. You don't have enough time to play with the remnant legs. I'm pretty sure she isn't going to be of mind to cooperate anytime soon anyways." She jerks her head offside, softening when Gil looks worriedly at Suvi. Sara approaches and squeezes his shoulder, mouthing silently. _"Go. Let me talk to her."_

Gil sighs and pats Suvi's hip as he quietly takes his leave, and Sara takes his place. She sits down on the edge of the bunk and remains silent for a moment, collecting her thoughts, trying to filter out the rest of rash emotion now that she's had time out of ground zero. She needs to think about the next step, and the steps thereafter, because she knows this isn't the end.

Not for Suvi, anyways; maybe not even the Tempest team itself.

Hesitantly, Sara reaches and feels the outline of the body burrowed under sheets. She hates seeing Suvi like this; it's a shame such a considerate woman is going to torment herself and give considerable thought to an inconsiderate person... But there's still something Sara can do to change that.

"This isn't over. I'm going to investigate, Suvi." Sara states as gently as possible, trying to get a feel for her science officer's response through the tension in her body. "There's a reason she's not telling the truth."

"She wouldn't say she killed them if she didn't," Suvi muffles brokenly. "You were right."

It honestly _hurts_ to hear this coming from her mouth. Are there any take backsies with this one?

"Maybe," Sara sighs, "but maybe not. You were right too, you know." A shift beneath the sheets. She smiles weakly when Suvi twists towards her, drawing the blanket down, confusion swimming in bloodshot eyes. This alone warrants punishment. If the exile thinks she's going to get away that easily, she's dead wrong. Remedy's going to pay, and if she's smart, she's going to grovel for forgiveness _forever_ even if Suvi already has.

"What do you mean?" Suvi asks, and for a fleeting second, there's hope in those eyes. She needs to hold on to that. There may be something to it; not something Sara dares commit out loud, though, _just_ in case if she's wrong.

"There are things I wouldn't have known had I not spent any time with her. Now I haven't _directly,_ but I've seen the others take to her too, not just you. And I've got enough pieces to make up the background of the puzzle." She soothingly rubs Suvi's hip, giving a friendly pat as she stands up. "Those kids she was looking after called her _yalaon._ Jaal said that means elder sibling. Strange thing to call a foster parent, no?"

Suvi stares. Her eyes widen. She shoots up from the bed, but Sara grabs her shoulders and shakes her head. "She's not going to open up, Suvi. Believe me that you'll only hurt yourself even more for trying. She's dug her heels in like a stubborn bull and she's going to ride out her regret until the bitter end. People like that will only come to a realization _after_ it's too late."

"But maybe I can just—"

" _Wait_ _._ Maybe you can wait." Sara smiles when Suvi's entire body caves in disappointment. "I promise the first thing I do on Kadara—besides giving Remedy the boot so that hothead can come to her realization—is head straight for that house and investigate." First there's a flicker of a hopeful smile, then guilt. Sara expected this and whips out the ace in her sleeve. "Then I'll activate the monoliths and get in Kadara's vault, make the planet viable, convince people to return to the Initiative after they see we're on the same team. Two birds with one stone. Everybody wins."

Guilt dissipates; _victory!_ Suvi smiles a little more easily—seems to be sitting that way too, with tension eking out. "Thank you, Pathfinder. I really appreciate you looking out for me and Remy. I'm sure she still appreciates it too."

"But mostly you."

Suvi chuckles softly. "But mostly me." Her head's still bowed, but at least the tears have stopped and the smile is slowly growing wider. "Is there anything I can assist with?"

"Yeah. Get some sleep, for once." Sara gives a lighthearted bop across Suvi's shoulder. "Everybody hurts when you hurt, Suvi. I want to solve this thing ASAP so that when you wake up, you're back to boosting the crew's morale with your smile." She brings in her science officer for a hug, propping her chin on top of the red hair standing out in humorous angles—there's a time and place to tease and mortify, though, and this isn't one of them. "Plus: coffee. You make the best cup of joe on this ship, hands down."

"I can make—"

"Nope. Stop thinking about everyone else for just one day, and start thinking about yourself. Something to look forward to though, right? Maybe it's not big, but we started small anyways." Sara gives her friend a firm squeeze, then lets go and bounces off from the bunk, beaming a reassuring smile.

"Everything's gonna work out, Suvi. It has to. If it doesn't, I won't stop until I _make_ it work. Promise." She gives a friendly peck on top of Suvi's head, then affectionately ruffles her hair, smirking with great amusement over how much more messy it's gotten. Sara rushes off towards the showers, cackling deviously along the way. "Check the mirror before you sleep!"

 _-—-—-—-—-—-_

Beeps at the door pique Peebee's curiosity, and she heads over to unlock them. Really, there's only one person that would be waiting on the other side. She smirks roguishly, and quickly checks herself in the reflection of her terminal, slicking her hands along her crest—as if she can even comb it like Ryder's hair, anyways. Soft hair.

Peebee misses tangling her fingers in it.

Ugh, she's jumping back into this too fast. Let the almighty Pathfinder squirm and work for it first. Ryder needs to be kept down a couple notches or her ego is gonna blow up to be the size of this galaxy. Yeah! She has to bust her ass before she can convince Peebee she's not baggage... But as soon as Peebee opens the door, her bravado disappears and concern knots in her stomach. "Damn, you look like shit, Ryder." At least she doesn't reek like a rotting carcass anymore. "What happened to you _now?_ "

Every time she opens this door, Ryder looks like a different level of hell. It's almost amusing, actually—it's like a little game.

"Can we hang out? It's been a long day," Ryder whines dramatically, and the sulky tone immediately goads Peebee to roll her eyes at this human's antics. Then she grins when Ryder invites herself in, no ifs ands or buts, and turns around, holding her arms out. "I need one of those hugs that turns into sex."

Peebee huffs as she gives a playful shove, but locks the doors _just_ in case. "Too bad, so sad. Go find your booty elsewhere."

"But you're the only treasure chest I like to open!" They both stop and cringe. Ryder shakes her head. "That was terrible. It sounded better in my head."

"You actually _thought_ about it and went with it _anyways?_ "

"Uh..." Ryder looks up at the ceiling as if it's going to give her answers. She needs all the help she can get, she really does. Poor soul. Peebee sniggers and shakes her head as she saunters over, playfully pushing Ryder by the chest, but away. A mischievous smirk plays on Peebee's lips when she walks past and heads inside her escape pod, tuning in to whatever movements goads a sharp inhale behind her. She's wanted. And it feels _damn_ good.

...But she saw that serious face when she opened the door.

Even if there was a joke, 'hang out' is the precursor to a tense woman just wanting to vent. Peebee could dance these steps in her sleep. She turns around and gestures for Ryder to come in, then hits the button, relaxing at the sound of the pod's doors hissing shut.

"Alright, out with it. Did you and Cora fight again?"

Ryder stares. Then her head drops dejectedly. "Ugh, no... But now that you mention it, I know we will. She'll ping me the moment she finds out we're going—" she stops cold. Lifts her forearm. Engages her omni-tool.

Peebee laughs at the crestfallen look. "She found out already, huh? Did she subscribe to get notifications every time a destination is logged on the map or something?"

"Or something. Can't fault her for being dutiful and dedicated, I guess, but do we have to butt heads every time we disagree? The worst part is that I _know_ she's got a good point too. It'd be so much easier if I could just hate her blindly." Ryder sighs, plopping down on the mattress. The sight of her laying on there—thankfully freshly showered too, because there'd be no washing out that odor—is enough to ignite a familiar craving in Peebee. She forces herself to sit on the chairs instead. This is more than just baggage. This is self-control. This is—

Ah, screw it. What's the worst that will happen if they have some fun?

"Are you listening?" Ryder asks, and Peebee blinks in confusion.

"What?" She was. Or did she zone out? "Yeah." She had to have been.

Ryder frowns, but then cracks a wry smile. "Should I take off my clothes so that I have your full undivided attention?"

Déjà vu. It feels like it's been years since they've last been in this escape pod, venting and saying these exact things; and yet, something feels different. They're both testing the waters, both testing each other, but there's an understanding there that wasn't there before. Peebee cautiously pushes off from the chairs, not unaware of the way her heart picks up the pace. She crawls over on hands and knees, seeing the hope and desperation and love and _pain_ in Sara's eyes.

Was that there before too, and she just didn't see it?

"I'm listening now, Ryder." Truly, this time. "I hear it even if you're not saying it." She runs a hand up Ryder's side, caressing her cheek, cupping her chin, swiping a thumb across lips that have yet to become swollen from biting and kissing. Peebee wants to change that, but this time she's torn. They've had their fun, and the worst has already happened.

Because now there are _strings._

"You hear it..." Sara smiles sadly. She's expecting the wrong answer. "But do you feel it?"

-—-—-—-—-—-

Toss. Turn. Sheets kicked one way. Sheets pulled back. Sheets kicked the other way. Suvi curls into a ball and groans lowly as she grabs her head; the headache refuses to go. She shivers incessantly and sneezes. She's definitely catching cold; but it doesn't matter. All she can think about is Remy, and the implications, and implicating Remy.

Yalaon. Elder sibling. The children saw Remy as an older sister, not as a parent. Could it just have been something Remy be preferred to be called, to escape the connection and responsibility that comes with being an actual parent? But why take care of them then?

If only Suvi took the time to actually talk _to_ the kids, instead of about them.

Another sneeze. She wipes her nose with her blanket, feeling absolutely gross after all the tears and muggy feelings drowning her. A shower will help; hopefully it'll help clear her mind and sleep, too. She forces herself to crawl out and makes her way to the bathroom, checking the light above the door to see if there are any occupants. None; then again, does anyone ever bother pushing the button?

Suvi inputs the code to slide the door open and calls out. "Hello? Anyone in here?" Hoarse. Scratchy. _Ugh._ This cold has terrible timing. A hot shower will be most welcome for sure. No answer, either, and she wastes no time as she strips out of her hoodie and uniform, stepping into the showers. She steps aside and turns the knob to let the water run and heat up, then braces herself when she walks under the spray. Her head bows forward and she splays her hands along the walls, groaning in content as rivulets rushes down her back.

Water. Remy loves water, even though she's fire; forged in it too. Maybe she loves water because it cools her down, helps her focus on the grander scheme of things. What if that's all she needs right now, to think, to process? She's injured, stressed out, set on the defensive; there's still no telling what else the brain surgery has affected too, right? To deal with explosive emotions and powerful memories on top of all that...

Too many variables. Suvi's having a hard time figuring out the answer to this equation; her mind refuses to slow down and relax too. She turns the knob so the water grows hotter, biting her lip when a scalding sting bites her skin. It's barely enough to take her mind off this shiteshow.

And then it snaps back to the present at the sound of doors hissing open.

"Hello?" Oh, Lexi. Suvi could talk to her, she always has valuable insight. "Anyone in here?"

"Yes!" Suvi walks over to the corner and peeks her head out. "Just m—" she stops when her eyes meet Remy's, waiting on a chair behind Lexi. Suvi hastily scrambles back into the showers and coughs to clear her throat, squeaking like a bloody mouse anyways. "J-just me, Lexi!"

 _Shite._

Shite, shite, _**shite.**_

How the hell is she supposed to get out of here now? She's not ready for this. She's not ready at all! It would've been a totally different matter if it was just Lexi, but now Remy too? Why is she here?! She's not allowed to shower, _not at all._ It's totally unreasonable for her to be here!

Dear God, please give Suvi strength to survive this mortification. It's silent though, and she dares steal another peek around the corner. The doors... Are closed?

"Am I imagining things?" Maybe she's just that tired. It _has_ been a while she's gotten some proper sleep, but at least she knows she's alone now. She melts in relief—in disappointment too—and goes back to her shower, running her hands through her hair as a heavy sigh slips out of her. Warmth trickles in to throb under her cheeks. What would she have done if Remy joined her in here? Awkward wouldn't even _begin_ to explain the atmosphere. Suvi isn't sure if she'd stand her ground or run away, with how tense things would surely be between them.

And not the tension she would rather like, either.

Suvi flushes at the thought of that. "How inappropriate," she mutters under her breath, shaking her head as she chastises herself. Out of all things to think about—after everything that's just happened, and _still_ she's thinking of Remy that way. Suvi worries her lip, and her hand crawls up to her mouth as she idly touches it. She smiles.

Oh, what she'd _give_ for another kiss.

She sneezes.

...What terrible timing everything has today.

-—-—-—-—-—-

 _[NOPE. I'M ON TO YOU. NOPE.]_

"Be reasonable, it may be the last time you get to shower. Don't you love water?"

 _[YOU'RE TRYING TO BRIBE AND TRICK ME AND I'M NOT FALLING FOR IT. NOPE.]_

"Is it necessary to type everything in capitals?" Lexi sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm not trying to trick you; I'll make sure she's gone before we head in there."

 _[NOPE.]_

Goddess, this bullheaded woman's stubborn streak knows no bounds. Lexi should've checked the showers first before she started carrying the exile here. It would've spared her time, effort, and a headache too. She's determined to get Remy to crack and drop the act though, even if she doesn't reflect until it's too late; but maybe it'll still teach a valuable lesson for the future.

"What if we—"

 _[N.O.P.E.]_

"Oh for the love of—stop saying no to everything I say."

 _[NOPE.]_

"This is going to get very old, very fast." Lexi crosses her arms. "Are you going to behave like a child?"

Remy smirks. _[NOPE.]_

What a relief that this woman still has a sense of humor... And enough sense to make others lose theirs.

All sense of humor dies when the doors open again.

Lexi doesn't need to—more like, doesn't want to—look, but she's holding on to her feeble willpower to not groan. She reluctantly strains a smile for Suvi. "We were just waiting until you finished. Ms. Kedar would like to have one last shower." She steps behind the exile as she uses her biotics to lift the chair and force Remy to grab the edges; Lexi doesn't dare look at the face that's _surely_ screaming the opposite of what she's said.

Unfortunately, Suvi doesn't seem inclined to move out of the way, and it stumps Lexi. Then it hits her. One _last_ shower. She forgot she was there when the Pathfinder announced dropping Remy off, but Suvi wasn't. Lexi watches Suvi, who's watching Remy, who appears to be watching back. Lexi schools her features when turquoise orbs grow sheen; she hates seeing a teammate—a friend—hurt like this, and hates it even more that she still has a duty as a doctor to adhere to.

The duty of _being there_ as a friend should be more important.

...But she's already trying to do that for Remy.

Finally, Suvi breaks the deadlock. "It's a mistake to leave." she whispers shakily, but her features sharpen into determination. It's as if she's preparing for war.

So she does know about the decision? Did the Pathfinder talk to her? Damage control is going to be a lot tougher than Lexi thought.

Remy looks away, turning behind her to give Lexi pleading eyes, who pretends not to see it. Remy can't run away. She _is_ making a mistake. She needs to confront that and acknowledge it and realize it; but Lexi knows the textbook reaction is the only way Remy sees out. She's going to treat this as a threat, as being told what to do rather than see they're all just trying to look out for her. It's engraved in every part of her posture right now, shoulders caving in defensively. Lexi isn't sure what's more disappointing: that this is happening, or that she knows it's coming and she can't do anything about it.

Remy scoffs. She engages her own omni-tool. Lexi's heart sinks at the heartbreak all over Suvi's face, as she looks down at the arm that used to always be their means to communicate with each other; their means of _connecting_ to one another, even before meeting for the first time.

Lexi can't help but feel guilty; she could've warned Suvi about Remy, and chose not to. Being stubborn and reckless to this degree may not entirely be Remy's _willing choice_ _._ These could just be the post-op symptoms of her surgery manifesting itself. Or maybe she's always been this way? Maybe what the surgery affected is amplifying what's already there, strengthening the connection now that other areas of the brain are relied upon even more.

Goddess, as if things aren't already complicated enough...

 _[What's new in my life?]_ Remy types angrily, but there's regret clear in her eyes. She doesn't want this; but she _can't_ control it. _[Even breathing is a mi]_

"Enough." Lexi cuts off before that line can be finished; she will not idly stand by and allow anyone to get hurt, or hurt themselves. She lifts the chair higher to make Remy to grab hold of the chair. "Doctor Anwar, I'm sorry, but we're in a rush. Please step aside." She pushes her way in and forces Suvi to bow out, hitting the button and locking the doors to ensure there will be no further interruptions. She ignores the flash of orange as Remy tries to get her attention with the omni-tool.

Tough love; the time for gentle guidance is over. Lexi's putting her foot down and drawing the line in the sand—for the _future._

Lexi brings Remy into the stalls with the chair, then stands and crosses her arms as she gives a pointed look at the bench beside the exile. "Transfer yourself. I'm going to go talk to Suvi while you shower—" she holds up her hand when Remy gestures to her omni-tool. "No. You're upset and you're lashing out, and I understand. I understand you're frustrated, and I understand you won't do what everybody thinks you should. That's just how it goes and I would do the same; but I will not enable such behavior."

Remy shakes her head, waving to her omni-tool. Lexi sighs. This better not make her eat her words.

 _[Speech therapy. 'Sorry'.]_

Lexi stares until the omni-tool is abruptly shut off, and Remy looks away, waving dismissively. She's changed her mind. Lexi can't begin to fathom how terrifying it must be—if there's still that ability to feel fear—trapped within a body and mind that cannot be controlled or entirely understood. Is there a part of Remy that knows she can't feel or restrain what she once could, or has even that sense been taken away?

Regardless, all things can come back in time, with practice. Lexi knows what Remy's actually asking for. "I know you're capable of saying it, Ms. Kedar. There's not much difference between the words you want to say; all you have to do is swap the v with the r."

Remy doesn't budge, but the corner of her mouth is tugs in a smirk. She's not going to take her apology seriously. All circumstances considered, that's not a surprise.

" _Suri?_ "

...Lexi still doesn't know what's more disappointing: that this is happening, or that she knows it's _not_ coming and she can't do anything about it.


	20. Chapter 20

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: Heads up, brace yourselves for a ton of angst this chapter and action in the next chapter! Hang in there and hope you still have a lovely day!

* * *

 _"The Pathfinder is unavailable."_

"What do you mean 'unavailable'?" Cora crosses her arms, frowning.

 _"Not free to do something; otherwise occupied."_

"I didn't mean the definition, SAM." Cora sighs exasperatedly, tapping her foot impatiently as she stares at the map of their destination. She has no idea what the Pathfinder is thinking about anymore; that sort of unpredictability doesn't bode well in a leader, especially a doubtful and indecisive one. Or at least, indecisive in the sense where she can _stick_ to her decisions. Ryder needs to explain this change—and it better not be half-assed. "What's she preoccupied with?"

 _"That information is unavailable."_

Cora's face falls flat. Unpredictable, indecisive, and secretive? She will not allow this to stand. "What _is_ available, then? Where is she right now?"

 _"In the escape pod."_

Alarms go off in Cora and she stiffens, turning sharply as she looks behind her. "What? That's not good, SAM, we need to get her out of there!"

Forget 'doesn't bode well in a leader'—the Pathfinder may very well be in danger or be getting cold feet and that just screams doesn't bode well in the entire damn _Initiative._ Cora didn't bust her ass all this time just for things to end in a silent whimper. She marches towards the room, intending to drag Ryder right back out of there.

 _"Lieutenant Harper, that would not be advised."_

Cora freezes. Something stinks here. Her eyes narrow up at the ceiling, and she chooses her words _very_ carefully this time. "SAM... _Who_ is the Pathfinder preoccupied with?"

If an AI could pause, she swears SAM does for a second. Her head drops in defeat and she groans at the answer. She should've known.

 _"Peebee."_

-—-—-—-—-—-

"SAM, play the song 'work this body'!"

"Oh~ no, this is _not_ happening!" Peebee groans, shoving Ryder away by the bloody jaw. This woman is positively _insufferable_ when she breaks out in song and dance. "Ugh, what did I say about this?!"

Ryder blinks innocently. _Not falling for it._ "Well, you did ask me to find you the last song, so that tells me you don't actually hate music." She points up at the ceiling when stupidly corny tunes fill the room, then snaps to the beat, singing along. "It was a strange place and a tender age, I was just a babe in school." Peebee rolls her eyes, and Ryder grins mischievously. "Saw them roll their eyes at me every time that I thought that I was cool. Well, uh, God knows I was no chosen one, that just wasn't my prime. Yeah it's just a matter of time, honey, it's just a matter of time."

Maybe it was a mistake confessing that _maybe_ there are feelings. Maybe.

"And I will work this body, I will burn this flame~" Ryder grabs Peebee's hips, hands drumming and tapping to the tune. "Oh, in the dead of night, and in the pouring rain. Yeah, I'm a workaholic and I swear, I swear! Yeah, one day I will beat you, fair and square."

Desperate to make it stop, Peebee slaps her hand over Ryder's mouth. The muffled singing is even worse. She's dancing and wiggling about on the mattress like she's a stupid worm.

"Remind me why I like you?" Peebee blurts exasperatedly, sighing when she can _feel_ the grin grow against her palm, but... She's reminded when bright blue eyes dance; and it's not just to music. The singing needs to stop, though. Peebee removes her hand and straddles Ryder's waist, grabbing her tanktop and yanking her until their mouths crash together. Peebee's lips buzz and she growls irritably when this idiot still tries to sing.

...The song _is_ catchy, though.

Something else buzzes, though, and not in the way either of them like. Peebee smirks when Ryder groans, bringing up her arm and looking out to the side, never breaking the kiss even if they're not moving. Cheesy sap. Peebee does the same, chuckling at how illogical and uncomfortable this is.

Curious, though, Peebee looks over at the message sent to Ryder... From Gil?

 _[Seraphtech legs. SAM warned the exile's set came with missiles. I'm only going to build the legs. Just a heads up in case if she tries to confront you about the missiles.]_

Peebee breaks the kiss. "What?" She pushes up on to her elbows, confronting the Pathfinder with a stern glare. "Why did Gil send that? Remnant and I were—"

"Remnant?" Ugh, not the point right now! "What?"

"My name for her," Peebee growls, frustrated to be sidetracked by things that don't immediately matter. "We were going to work on outfitting her with the assembler's legs."

"Not anymore." Ryder looks up at the ceiling. "SAM, shut off the song." Great, a sign that this is about to go to shit. The way Ryder looks so weary and _aged_ as she meets Peebee's gaze almost tugs at her strings. "We're heading to Kadara now to drop her off; and before you give me that look, it was her request. I tried getting through to her." Ryder sighs, averting her eyes to the wall. "This is about to turn into an even longer day..."

" _Answers._ " Peebee couldn't care less. If this woman is making another stupid decision, she can whine all she wants about it, but she still needs to know it's stupid. "What the hell happened now? An hour ago, everything was just fine." Remnant was happy with Suvi. Suvi was happy with Remnant. Remnant even fucking helped Peebee make up her mind about her own mess and be happy with Ryder.

Now the almighty 'Pathfinder' is going to fuck that up too, just like with the kids. Why is she always breaking the things that work?

Ryder rakes a hand through her bangs, flopping ungracefully above her head. "There's been a development." Oh, great, the 'professional' explanation too. It's just bullshit running in circles is what it is. "Suvi found out the exile killed the parents of those kids we dropped off with Jaal's family."

...Okay. That doesn't come as a surprise, though. Not on Kadara. "So what's the big deal?" Peebee blurts, not oblivious to the way Ryder is trying to gauge her to see if she's serious or not. She is. "Everyone's killed someone. Me and you kill everyday." She wrinkles her nose and pushes herself up, plopping into the chairs when she can just _feel_ heat emanating from the Pathfinder. "Hear me out before _you_ give me that look. Remnant's a good guy. Doubt she went on a murder spree on Kadara. For all we know, parents coulda been the bad guys. The kids said Remnant saved 'em."

"Then the exile would've said so, or said she killed in self-defense, or said _something_ to defend her innocence. Not 'I killed them' and 'there's nothing more to it'."

"Why say something when everyone's already decided that she's guilty?" Peebee retorts, shrugging. "We all treated—are treating—her like a criminal, like all the exiles we've run into and killed; I'm guilty of it too. You're still calling her 'exile'. Suvi's the only one who didn't. If she is now, it's probably because of something you told her. You should give Remnant a second chance; not the boot."

"I tried!" Ryder shoots up into sitting, hurt striking across her face. "Why are you always the first one treating me like _I'm_ the guilty one? That everything's my fault? You of all people should know—should support—that I'm the first to try to do the right thing; that I'm the first to lose my god damn mind trying to figure out what the right thing even _is_. You weren't there for half this mess and you're acting as if only your word is fact, end of story. It's not! Not everything is black and white!"

Before Peebee has a chance to blurt more— _maybe_ be the stupid one of them two after all—Ryder rises up and storms out the escape pod, throwing her hands up in surrender. "Jesus Christ. At least now I understand how Remedy feels, being shit on all the time. It's like 'well that escalated quickly' is the Tempest's fucking motto."

Doors slide shut, and Peebee's left all alone in her pod. The heat disappears too suddenly and she shivers. She chews her lip and sighs as she buries her face in her hands, groaning as guilt and regret needles at her. She doesn't do guilt and regret, or at least, she _used_ to be like that. "Fuck." She grimaces when she can hear Ryder arguing with Cora outside the room. Peebee could've changed that outcome if she holstered her tongue; support makes a world of difference, and instead she treated Ryder like the criminal.

An hour ago, everything was just fine. It only takes a second for it all to change.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Stale white sterile walls. She used to hate the med-bay, and somewhere along the line, it somehow became a home. A home she's leaving.

Remy stares at the post-op instructions the doctor input on her omni-tool; it's all about how to take care of the incision cutting across her skull, with precautions and things to avoid and how to minimize the buildup of scar tissue. All well and good, but she can't find it in her to care.

What for? What's the point anymore?

Remy shuts off her omni-tool and watches as Gil puts on the finishing touches to her leg, running several blueprints and measurements by her first for her okay. That's nice of him. He doesn't have to; he can just set her up with the shittiest prosthetics ever to save his time and resources, and instead he's going out of his way to make certain she has exactly what she's always had.

Why? There's no point. He's wasting his time and resources, helping her to this degree.

She can't find it in her to care, to tell.

Remy drags her track pants closer to her, running a hand along the tattered legs. Clean ones. Someone went out of their way to wash these for her.

Every little thing she observes is like a knife to the gut. Every little part of her is screaming to stop this, to ask for Suvi and ask for forgiveness, to confess everything that's happened... But she's already committed to this path. The wheels are in motion and there's no stopping them; she has a feeling the Pathfinder won't just suddenly accept her changing her mind either. Not after all that frustration, and arguing, and guilt. A leader decides something and that's the end of the story.

At least Remy will get to see Food again. It'll be a bittersweet reunion—probably an annoying one too, with how much Sa'mosa is going to tease her now. Life will go back to the way it once was, minus the stress over feeding mouths that aren't hers; she enjoyed that stress though. It gave her a sense of purpose.

It forced a reason—a need—to live.

Now it's just going to be about survival and cutthroat deals and salvaging and poker games and outrunning death and all the things that take away the purpose of life: _living._ There's nothing to enjoy. Nothing to work for. No one to share love and freedom and stories and silliness with. She's going to become the typical run-of-the-mill exile.

Remy bites back a sigh as she plucks her hat beside her, reaching up and settling back into a familiar routine of tying up her hair. A week ago, she would've been ecstatic to do all these things again, now that the agony has subsided—of her injuries, anyways. There's an open wound inside her soul and she can't do anything about it. It's going to bleed out and die a slow, painful death, and then she'll just be a mere husk of a fractured memory of herself.

She's not sure what's worse: that it's going to happen, or that she knows about it.

Gil comes over with one of the legs, saying something. She nods, not really listening, taking it and rolling up the hospital gown to start working on securing the prosthetic to her. She sucks in a breath and steels herself for the overloading rush of sensation and pain; it'd be welcome over to this numbness gnawing away at her.

Latches click, snapping into place. She takes Gil's offered screwdriver and sticks it inside a narrow slot, pushing in the button to engage the leg's built-in VI, closing her eyes and hissing as searing agony blazes down her leg as nerves are rudely awakened, dragged out of their slumber. Pins and needles and tingles flood her spine. She holds on to the bed and waits for it to wash away, imagining herself waist deep in the ocean and floating with the waves, counting to ten.

Opening her eyes, she looks down at her foot, moving it in circles; promising. Hopefully these legs will be just as good at walking. Gil brings over the second leg and she wastes no time—not that time has a meaning anymore. She goes through the same motions and pushes through the haze of pain, injecting herself in a little fantasy world as she surfs turbulent waves.

Two legs. A week ago, she would've been ecstatic about this too, buzzing with ideas. She sluggishly pushes herself off the bed and stands, testing her new— _old_ —prosthetics out. The knees feel empty, less stable; no missiles? No surprise. Remy will find something on Kadara. She'll survive.

God, what a dead life she's returning to.

Gil's talking again. So is Lexi. Remy nods, still not really listening; they're both imparting some sort of advice or something like that. They're still looking after her. They're wasting their time. She takes the track pants and slides them on, then reaches behind to untie the hospital gown, but her hands are warded away. She looks over her shoulder and stiffens.

Suvi.

A smidgen of color and fire beats it's way into the world.

Remy can't find the courage to say something, though, and she looks down in shame as she closes her eyes, feeling the way the gown loosens and falls off her shoulders. This **hurts** more than anything else she's ever endured. It's hard to breathe. Why is Suvi here? Isn't she pissed off, isn't she broken, isn't she disappointed? Remy fears the answer; she squeezes her eyes shut even tighter as gentle hands pull the gown off of her. Pressure rests against her forehead. It takes all of her willpower to not fall apart.

...Why is she holding on this strong, anyways? What's the point of being stubborn, what is she being stubborn _for?_

"It's a mistake to leave," Suvi whispers shakily, again. "I'm sorry for how I reacted before, and for jumping to conclusions." Why the hell is _she_ apologizing?! There's only one conclusion Remy gave her, too. Suvi's got this all mixed up again. "But..." Suvi sounds like she's hesitating, or unsure, starting and dying and stammering and giving up and all the things that Remy can relate to. She aches when tender warmth pats against her lips with every breath. "You still have my frequency, yes? If you ever want to talk, I'll always be here, okay?"

Something moist presses against her forehead. It shatters every wall and every barrier; stubborn doesn't stand a chance. Only regret.

"Just please take care of yourself, Remy."

Remy bites her lip. This woman is _so close,_ and they can have everything they want, but it's still _so far_ _away._ There's distance wedged between them and she doesn't understand why, doesn't understand how to open up, doesn't understand what's closed off anyways. She nods, not sure what she's nodding to, accepting Suvi's help to put the stupid Initiative hoodie on—wearing this is equal to signing a death warrant on Kadara.

But she can't find it in herself to care. The whole time, she can't help but scream one question.

 _Why is leaving so hard?  
_

...Oh, right, because she doesn't want to leave.

It's too late to change her mind, anyways. Surely the Pathfinder won't... Right?

-—-—-—-—-—-

Waving goodbye has become something of a habit, a vice. Suvi still finds it hard to swallow every time. She stands at the foot of the ramp, trying to keep up the facade of a hopeful smile, telling herself this isn't goodbye. She refuses to accept this as the last time she'll see or hear Remy. It hurts to see her being escorted away though.

"Will you be alright?" The sudden voice startles Suvi and she jumps a little, looking over her shoulder. Lexi. Suvi turns away.

"I will be. Not today, but... Someday." She smiles sadly, not needing to keep up the facade with how far Remy is now. "Sooner, if the Pathfinder's plan works." She stops and thinks about that, and she bites her lip, and shakes her head, and turns around with her head held low. "Then again, the Pathfinder is just going to investigate Remy. Nowhere did she have a plan to convince Remy to come _back._ "

"She might not." Lexi warns gently, but it comes as a goddamn wrecking ball to the stomach.

Suvi sluggishly climbs back up the ramp, raking a hand through her hair as she sighs. "I don't understand any of this, Lexi. Why is she leaving when she doesn't want to? I can tell she doesn't. What's holding her back, or making her feel like she should go through with it?"

"Numerous reasons; pride, guilt, shame. Perhaps fear of being hurt, so she's shutting herself off. She may feel powerless now that a leader is involved with her departure. Remy is an engineer and likely has been repairing things here for a living, so she respects the Pathfinder's authority since she's doing something to fix this mess everybody's in. If Ryder were more like the leaders Remy is accustomed to dealing with, then things might've played out... Differently."

"You mean violently," Suvi mutters, heartbroken. At least things _haven't_ played out that way. That's something, right? There's still a reason to hope. Maybe Remy would never react that way anyways, and it's the taint of the exile skewing Suvi's perspective into thinking Remy might—besides her threats, but the culture and survival here demands one to be as intimidating as possible.

Will Remy be able to do that, now that her ability to posture—verbally, anyways—has been taken away?

A shudder rolls down Suvi's spine and she stops her climb, looking back one last time. The only other way Remy could communicate, _crystal clear_ at that, is to use force.

God, hopefully it doesn't come to that. And, just in case, Suvi whispers a prayer under her breath as she enters the cargo bay.

...But is anyone listening?

-—-—-—-—-—-

"People are staring at me like they've never seen a walking goddess before," Sara quips as she fearlessly marches through the port, stealing a glance beside her and smirking when she catches the exile roll her eyes. Then Remedy turns her omni-tool on.

 _[Careful, arrogance is the first to die here.]_

"You sure? Sloane's still alive."

 _[Not for long.]_

Sara stares at the message, frowning. She doesn't have a good feeling about this. She doesn't like how fast and easy that came either—like there's been a million thoughts about it, and not a single doubt was among them. "I hope you're not planning to continue your streak of stupid ideas."

...No answer, not even a scoff; that's a sure sign as any.

Silence permeates the air between them until they get to the gates. The guard holds out his hand and shakes his head, gesturing to Remedy. "She's not allowed inside the port."

"I'll pay her fees," Sara groans, keeping a close watch on the exile beside her. Why try to get her inside if she _is_ planning to do something stupid?

"Doesn't matter, she's banned from the port. She belongs in the badlands." Uh, wasn't Remedy in the port last time? In the bar too, so it's not like she was hiding. How did she get herself banned if she hasn't been in Kadara since?

"Banned? You don't even know who she is; you haven't scanned her."

"Don't need to. You don't belong here either, Nexus. Sloane banned you too."

Ahh~ now everything makes **perfect** sense.

"Alright," Sara sighs, "next time just save everybody the time and say you don't like me. That's why you're not letting her in."

"Nobody in Kadara likes you, 'Pathfinder'. And we're not going to fall for your tricks. You think you can infiltrate us with one of our own?" The guard narrows his eyes at Remedy. "You better watch your back now, snitch." Snitch? What the fuck? That's some assumption just because Remedy's standing beside Sara. "After everything the Nexus did to us, you sell us out? After everything Sloane did for us?"

Ugh, this is already a shitstorm. Sara severely underestimated how much worse things can _still_ get.

Anxious, Sara gently grabs Remedy's arm to turn and go, but it's brushed off. Guilt needles at Sara, though; she's kicking a potentially-innocent woman off her ship and literally throwing her to the wolves. Wolves that now know there's easy prey around. For once, the next problem may honestly be Sara's fault.

"C'mon, cut this out..." Sara urges, biting back a groan when Remedy walks up to the guard and stares him down, though the glare is reciprocated without fear. "Do you really want me to tell Suvi that you died like an idiot?" Sara growls under her breath, coming down stern when a glowing eye snaps to her. It's clear this one isn't going to listen to logic anymore—if she ever did in the first place. Force is the only thing she knows and respects on this planet. That's fine. Sara can be forceful too. "Don't do anything stupid. We're going and I _will_ drag you if I have to. You can either go with dignity or go with more bruises. Makes no difference to me."

Remedy stares; even with the implant glowing vibrantly, her eyes still look dead. She backs off, though, and turns sharply to march to the lifts. She doesn't bother waiting and slams the gates shut. Sara sighs. She engages her comm-link, knowing fully well Suvi's tapped in, and ignores the smirking asshole beside her. "She's gone to the slums by herself, likely going to the badlands." Sara walks offside and to the railing, watching the lifts as they head down below.

 _"I'm set up outside her house."_ Jaal reports on the comms. _"Vetra has the turret secured and packed in the rover. Shall we pull back now, Pathfinder?"_

"Yeah, I don't think she's going to make any pit stops and she's likely going to turn those defenses back on. Did you change the parameters and upload the virus?"

 _"Yes, the turrets will respond to SAM's signal and recognize you as an ally even if she tries to override it."_

"Good. Meet up at the forward station outside the Warden's gates. Time to activate Kadara's vault and _prove_ we're everybody's ally."

-—-—-—-—-—-

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again." Reyes blinks in surprise. He sets his whiskey aside and rubs his eyes to make sure he's not just seeing things, but the woman's still there every time—crossed arms, hip jutting, foot tapping, and... A lot of new scars. That part doesn't come as a surprise. She's different somehow, though. Changed. He can only imagine what she's had to survive these past few weeks. Where did she get new legs, though?

Her arrival—her timing—is suspicious. He'll have to keep a close eye on this one and find out why she's _really_ back.

"You look like you've seen better days, Remy. What can I do for you today, my lively 'dead' friend?"

Reyes relaxes in his booth and gestures for his guard to do the same when Remy approaches the table, omni-tool engaged. Reyes sneaks his hand under the table where the pistol is strapped, just in case. He cocks his head in confusion when he gets a good look at Remy.

There's bandages hiding under the brim of her cap.

"What... Happened to you?" he mutters, genuinely curious more so than skeptical. There are far too many questions surrounding her presence now. Ryota is the only doctor in the slums and he knows she wasn't there—kept tabs everyday. And why isn't she talking? Is this the same Remy or is this just a lookalike? She should be barking empty threats and swearing and putting on an entertaining show—at her expense. In his deck of cards, she's the Joker; but that was yesterday. He looks down at her omni-tool, and tries not to smile at her message.

 _[I'm not your friend. I'm your partner, and I'm ready to get back to work.]_

No, not a Joker at all. Not anymore. She's no longer the Wildcard, either. She's the Ace of Spades. The Death Card with a death wish.

 _[Where's Food?]_

...And the Spade is about to claim her first victim.


	21. Chapter 21

**The Lucifer Effect**

* * *

Ruzad. 'Judge' in Krogan dialect. The shotgun Sa'mosa gave her. Remy runs her fingers along the dull curve of the blade attached to the barrel, now sporting a few new scratches—scars, like her. Someone had to _go back_ to the site and dig it out of rubble; looking for her in the rubble, maybe? She watches Reyes—and the guard—carefully, but she's not sure what she's watching for. _If_ he's hiding something, it's not going to scream all over his face. She can't play word games and trip him up on his own words either.

"What brought you back, Remy? You were off the radar for a while." Reyes nonchalantly pours another glass of whiskey, sliding it across the table and gesturing it to Remy as he watches her just as carefully. He's suspicious of her; good. The routine reaction of everybody on Kadara. "Off the planet too, weren't you?"

Remy shrugs, tearing herself from the shotgun to take the offered drink. She's certainly been hurting for one. She throws her head back and knocks it down, mindful of the effortful swallow; she's getting better at it at least.

A smirk tugs her lips when she can just _hear_ Sa'mosa's voice quipping a dirty joke.

Omni-tool engaged, she types her message and makes no move to hide from her partner; it's not hard to put two and two together with the ridiculous hoodie she's wearing, after all. _[The Pathfinder team rescued me. I just got kicked off a little under an hour ago. Now quit stalling. Where the hell is Sa'mosa? Is she out on a job?]  
_

Reyes avoids her gaze.

Remy shuts off her omni-tool, bracing herself for the worst. It still _hurts._ It still hurts to lose and to lose someone and to lose a fellow asshole and partner-in-crime and _friend._

"I'm sorry, Remy... She's..."

 _No._ She shakes her head. She doesn't believe it. She can't believe it. That stubborn asari wouldn't die like some sort of fucking goldfish, flushed down to join the rest of the rotting shitheads on this godforsaken planet. She _can't,_ she's not allowed to. She can't leave Remy behind. But she is. That selfish asshole took the easy way out and—

What's the fucking _point_ anymore?

What the hell is life even worth when it treats them worthlessly?

White noise buzzes in Remy's ears. Her legs give out on her—legs that should be impervious to this exact problem. She stumbles and catches the table to brace herself, gaze honing in to what scrapes across when the table tilts from her force. Her hand instinctively snaps over the shotgun before it flies off.

And right then there, she gets her answer: life is worthless. Or at least, that's the point she's going to make once she hunts down the mother fucker who killed her last and only friend. She's already broken, and broken doesn't have a breaking limit. She's had enough.

Taking the shotgun, she marches up to Reyes, glaring when the guard aims a gun and warns her. "Put it down or you'll be put down."

"Remy..." Reyes mutters gently, but she doesn't need gentle. She needs a reason to keep breathing. She needs a friend; someone who cares. Is that too much to ask for?

"Put the gun down _now!_ " the guard commands.

It doesn't faze her. She couldn't care less if she's shot. She sets the shotgun down and engages her omni-tool. _[I'm not Remy anymore. I'm Ruzad. Point me to who killed her.]_

-—-—-—-—-—-

Peebee checks in on Suvi every now and then, frowning when there's absolutely no change every single time. Suvi just has her head down on her dashboard, the comm channel open and loud and playing idle music from Ryder's end. Is the poor woman at least getting some sleep, or is she just sitting there, praying and waiting? Is that seat even comfortable?

Suvi likely doesn't care. She can tune in on her omni-tool, though, at least be in a proper bed. Maybe she's avoiding it so she doesn't fall asleep—however badly she needs it.

Peebee doesn't bother hiding back in her room and quietly leans against the wall so that the doors stop sliding open and shut. She makes a passing glance at the empty pilot seat. She could sit there, but Kallo would likely have a fit if he saw _her_ —of all people—in the Tempest's throne, with restless hands too close to flight controls.

 _"I like my music at the volume where I can't hear you complaining about it!"_ Ryder quips on the comms, and Peebee can't help but smile. She watches as Suvi tucks her hair behind her ear, catching a flicker of a smile too, before gravity pulls and makes the hair spill forward again. A faint groan is heard on the comms—sounds like Vetra. Poor girl. She's always hauled around by a crazy woman and has to put up with crazy antics too.

A pang grips Peebee and her smile falls. For a moment, she feels the need to reach out to Suvi; to relate more so than to comfort. She turns away and sits against the wall instead, drawing her legs and hugging them, propping her chin on her knees as she closes her eyes to listen to Ryder's insufferable singing.

How is she still like this, with everything that's happening? How can she even _force_ herself to sound optimistic? What drives her to put on a brave and cheery face for everybody else?

Peebee doesn't know, but she can't help but gravitate towards it.

Is it the same with Suvi and Remy? They fell so fast, so hard, and now they've both been pried apart; but here Suvi is, waiting on the other end of the line for _some_ sort of news. That's some dedication. Especially to a woman she hardly knows. Is Peebee one to talk right now, though? She's kind of doing the same thing, sneaking and skulking around just to get _something._ It hurts when it's not _her_ who gets it.

 _"Hey, Suvi, I just thought of the perfect song for you."_ Oh, this should be bad. Definitely not good whatsoever. _"But it's like... A happy and sad song, if that makes sense?"_

Suvi lifts her head, peering at the comms. She glances around and spots Peebee, who waves sheepishly, wondering if she should leave. She takes it as a sign that it's okay to stay when Suvi doesn't react to her presence and looks back at the comm-link, scooting closer to the edge of her seat as she activates her end. "What song?"

A pause. Peebee holds her breath. Is Suvi doing the same? It's hard to hear who's letting go of their breath when Ryder talks again. _"A thousand years by I can't-remember-who. Old song. Well, definitely a few extra centuries old now, but it's one of my favorites. Are you familiar with it, by any chance?"_

Suvi looks back at Peebee again, who shrugs. "Don't look at me. I'm not a music buff; I don't know human music. Don't even know asari music."

Awkward silence fills the bridge for a moment. Peebee nervously chews her lip when Ryder sighs. _"You're there?"_

What's she supposed to say to that? Peebee's pride nearly jumps out first when she can hear and perfectly visualize—not a good sign—the weariness wearing Ryder down, but Peebee bites her tongue and hides her face as she hugs her legs harder. She's forever grateful when Suvi derails the tension and drags them back on the railroad tracks. "The title sounds familiar, but I'm not quite sure. Could you sing the chorus?"

 _"Sing? I can do way~ better than that."_ Ryder's voice perks up at that, and Peebee buries her smirk in her knees as she closes her eyes again, trying to imagine everybody on the other end of the line, riding in the Nomad; the rover's likely upgraded with anything related to music, rather than exploration. That's definitely Vetra groaning somewhere again. Jaal's probably snoozing through the whole bloody thing, as usual. _"I've got the song on my omni-tool. I'll send it to you after, lemme find it and play it in here first. Gimme a sec."_

One second. Two. Peebee tries to reign her impatience under control. She reflects on the title—a thousand years? Sounds like a song more for an asari than a human. Is there, by any slim chance, that the Pathfinder means to dedicate it to her instead? Ryder didn't know that she's there too, though. It's highly unlikely after their spat.

Peebee sighs. Guilt pricks her, and she hates being pricked by a prickly prick. That tugs her mouth a tiny bit up, but it's not enough. She wants—needs—Ryder to hurry up and come back already. Peebee has no idea what she'll say or do but she'll figure it out on the spot. More genuine. No words necessary.

...Okay, maybe _"I'm sorry"_ should be said, somewhere, sometime.

Piano floods the bridge. Peebee stiffens, listens, smiling when Ryder's faint singing can barely be heard in the undertone of the song. Is she even saying words? She's mumbling. It's a surprise she doesn't know the lyrics. They're clear and easy to understand. And—though she never thought she'd ever say this about _any_ song—it's... Surprisingly something she kinda-maybe-sorta relates to.

 _"Heart beats fast. Colors and promises. How to be brave? How can I love, when I'm afraid to fall? But watching you stand alone? All of my doubt suddenly goes away, somehow."_

"Ugh, so cheesy..." Peebee mutters under her breath. No way. There's no way she relates to this. There's no way Suvi can too, right? But... Maybe... Peebee lifts her head to watch Suvi's reaction to this insufferably sappy song. Her stomach twists uncomfortably and she reacts instinctively when Suvi's hand slips over her mouth, looking away. Peebee pushes off the wall and springs up to her feet, walking over to...

To... What?

Peebee reaches out with her hand, but she falters, not knowing what to do. She settles for a pathetic squeeze of the shoulder, patting it awkwardly when she can feel it quiver. Her lips purse thin and tingles crawl up her fingers when Suvi shakily reaches blindly, sliding her hand over Peebee's, squeezing it back.

 _"One step closer. I have died everyday waiting for you. Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years. I'll love you for a thousand more."_

"I do know this song. This _is_ the perfect one..." Suvi whispers shakily, her voice broken. Peebee hates this. She's going to give Remnant a stern talking to if—when—she comes back. She has to come back. She _better,_ if she knows what's good for her, or Peebee will bust her tail just to drag that idiot back. Remnant can't say the things she did about time and gifts and all that shit only to disappear so suddenly, so coldly. There was a fucking light in her stupid eyes. In Suvi's stupid eyes too.

Now there's only tears.

"Seriously, what the _fuck_ _,_ Remnant?" Peebee grumbles under her breath. She keeps her hand right where it is—not like she can pull it away, however uncomfortable she feels now, with Suvi holding her so tight. It's crushing, honestly, but now isn't the time. It's not a good time to have a broken hand too, though.

 _Ugh,_ what horrible excuse.

Peebee chastises herself to suck it up, staying to support, listening to the song and the tears and the groans and the insufferable singing. She's sad about Suvi crying, she is, but she still can't help but smile at Ryder's stupid frigging sappiness.

Suvi's, too, when she sings, but it's so quiet that Peebee has to tilt her head and watch the woman's mouth just to see that she actually _is._ Maybe music isn't so bad? "And all along I believed I would find you. Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you for a thousand years... I'll love you for a thousand more."

Love.

Like... _Love,_ love?

 _'Seriously, what the **fuck,** Remnant?!'_ Peebee screams inside her mind.

That asshole better be doing everything in her fucking power to make up for this.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Blood trails behind. Every heavy step echoes, announcing her presence as metal prosthetics screech against the grates, like nails on chalk board.

Ruzad's numb to the screams and pleas. It's advantageous. She follows them down a hallway, not unlike the one she once ran through with Sa'mosa by her side. She grins vengefully, manically—agonizingly, _hurting_ inside somewhere, suffocating the pain before she can hurt too long—as the woman's shrieks grow louder. She's trapped and she knows it, and she's bleeding, and she knows she's going to _pay._

No more mercy. No more empathy. No more being blinded by the stupid fucking notion that people still have a scrap of decency in them; they don't. There's humans, but no humanity.

Coming around the corner and entering the small room, Ruzad braces the shotgun against her shoulder as she takes aim at the woman clawing like a caged animal as she bangs her fists against a wall. It's not going to help—what is she expecting that will do? No one is going to save her. No one can save someone who's sold their soul—and the devil demands it's due.

It's time for the final judgment.

Ruzad nears, making sure she'll be within range to fire and not miss—making sure she'll look straight into this woman's eyes... To make sure if there indeed is no more humanity left in them. There'll be no more Remy if she squeezes this trigger. She adjusts her aim when the woman whirls around, hands slapping the wall, tears streaking down her cheeks.

" _Please!_ I don't deserve this!"

Sa'mosa didn't either.

 _...Nobody does._

No. No more. It's foolish to believe in that; reality is cruel and heartless and death cares not if one is deserving or not. Life doesn't care either. It gambles with the devil.

"What do you want from me? Money?! I'll give you everything! I've got cargo—"

 _Shut up._ How can she say that, though? Well, the gun is her mouth, now.

Ruzad swings the shotgun up and squeezes the trigger, grunting when it kicks against her shoulder as the shot rips through the air, making the woman shriek in fear. Her legs cave out and she falls to the floor, hands slapping over her ears, sobbing uncontrollably. Ruzad walks closer, choking down the lump growing in her throat, blinking faster when her eyes burn and her heart races. The muzzle of the shotgun touches the woman's head.

All Remy has to do is squeeze the trigger.

" _Please..._ I've done terrible things and I've stolen to survive, but I've never killed nobody."

 _Bullshit!_

"I have family—mouths to feed!"

Who knows if Sa'mosa had the same responsibility? Remy didn't even get the chance to find out. Now she never will—because this woman killed Sa'mosa.

" _Please,_ " the woman cries, rocking back and forth, hands smearing blood all over her ears and cheeks and hair and—her hands are bloody with her own blood, and they're bloody with Sa'mosa's blood too. She's guilty. Squeeze the trigger! She has to be judged and punished and—she's rotten. She's rotten just like every other mother fucker on this god forsaken planet. Everybody deserves this fate!

...Would Suvi?

" _Please!_ My name is Summer, and—"

Summer. Isn't that what Suvi's name means? Ugh, and Summer has red hair too. What is it with Remy and redheads and every woman's name starting with a fucking S?

Maybe she's fucking cursed. She _will be_ if she squeezes the trigger; and then she'll dance with the devil forever.

"I'm 26, and I'm a technician—I like to work on life support and I just..." The woman's voice breaks off when she steals a glance at the gun jammed against her head, then yelps and whimpers and tears form a puddle and mix with the blood streaking down from the graze on her arm when Ruzad missed.

Remy's hand shakes. Her eyes burn hotter, and the world grows misty and blurry and—fuck, just _squeeze the trigger!_ This is for Sa'mosa! Stop listening to this woman's lies; she'll say anything to create a connection just to be spared, and then she'll overthrow Remy and steal the shotgun and kill her and—that wouldn't matter either. So if Remy doesn't care if she lives or dies, then what's the difference between pulling the trigger and killing the human and both their meager scraps of humanity and—fuck, just _fuck!_

"I have two kids," Summer continues, trembling uncontrollably. Remy's nose wrinkles at the stench of urine, taking a step back before her legs are tainted by the bodily fluids. And tears. And _doubt._ "They're 2 and 5. T-the Initiative... Oh god... Please, if not me, think of them. Their father died! Don't take their mother away too!"

The Initiative wouldn't have thawed her kids, if the kids exist. Summer would've had to offer something hefty just to secure passage for them. How valuable is she? Life support. Was she among Calix's group then, if that really is her job? Maybe she broke her kids free during the revolt.

...No. Remy was there. There was no time. The krogan were unleashed upon them. They had to leave behind loved ones—some sacrificed—to get to the shuttles.

'Summer' is lying.

She _is_ guilty. She _does_ deserve this. This is karma.

 _She's doing whatever it takes to survive.  
_

Torn, furious, Remy explodes with rage and stomps up to kick the woman in the stomach, fueled by the pained cry that cuts down to the bone. She aims the shotgun, glaring as 'Summer' rolls and struggles to crawl away, ignoring the pleas of innocence. Nobody is innocent on Kadara. The woman reaches out to the wall, crying pathetically, smearing blood on the wall.

It triggers a dream. A memory.

 _"Help..." **Stop**... "Me..." **Her**..._

" _Plea—!_ "

A metal foot slams down, crushing the woman's wrist. Remy's scream burns until it dies suddenly.

...As a shot echoes.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Hiding in her bunk, Suvi plays the song on repeat as she tries to stifle her tears. They won't stop. She hates this agony gnawing away at her, draining her, destroying what precious little hope burns. She mouths every word in the song, believing it more and more each time—and that's the worst part of it all.

She _believes_ every word.

If only she didn't doubt in the first place, if only she didn't react the way that she did. If she had stayed, if she had supported, if she had just taken the _time_ to listen and understand and comfort...

Would Remy be here, believing every word with her?

Suvi pulls the sheets over her head, curling her knees to her chest as she closes her eyes, imagining the orange glow of her omni-tool bears warmth, even if it can't. It's better than nothing, better than this impenetrable cold casing her bones. A lump grows as she chokes out the words to the song. "I have died everyday, waiting for you."

God, hopefully this will end soon. It will, right? It has too. She can't imagine—can't bear to suffer like this. This pain is proof, though, of how she truly feels; if she didn't see it before, she does now. It's frightening, mystifying, inspiring, incomprehensible. She just _can't_ understand their connection—can't understand how it's grown this powerful, this fast.

Why does this hurt so much?

Why does she love this much?

It makes no sense. Does it have to? It should be enough to feel. She chased a whim and that whim sparked to life and caught fire and set her world ablaze—and now with the flame extinguished, and the ashes have settled, all she can feel is regret. And yet, not a single part of that regret regrets every moment she spent with Remy.

She just wishes she could have one more moment. She has to be patient and have faith that she _will_ get that moment.

Her fingers buzz. Her heart leaps and pounds in her throat as her eyes snap open, and she blinks in disbelief with what her omni-tool displays on the screen.

 _[ **Remedy Kedar: 2** **unread messages.**_ _]_

Suvi whips the sheets down as she shoots up into sitting, yelping in pain when she accidentally hits her head against the bunk above her.

It doesn't deter her for a _single second._

Scrambling to open the messages, she tries to calm her trembling hand as she unlocks her omni-tool. She can't help but smile as the song continues to play, mouthing the words as she navigates her inbox. "And all along I believed I would find you. Time has brought your heart to me..."

But what she reads makes her heart drop from her throat, crashing down to her stomach.

 _[I lost a friend. The only friend I had on Kadara. Sa'mosa T'Lova. I don't even know if that's her real name.]_

Suvi swallows nervously. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes for a moment, steeling herself before she reads the second message. There's a dreadful feeling brewing and she _knows_ this isn't going to end well. She reluctantly turns off the song so that she can gather her thoughts, collect her emotions, and focus on not running away like she did the first time.

Remy certainly tests that resolve with her next message.

 _[I hunted the woman responsible.]_

"No..." Suvi murmurs, eyes burning all over again. She closes her eyes and holds on to fraying faith, wracking her brain for what to say, unable to see where she stands. She can understand anger, but she _loathes_ how Kadara's tainted everybody and she knows Remy was painfully aware of this too.

How could she let Kadara win?

Another message. Suvi takes a second to calm herself before she lashes out, hurting even more than watching the engineer go—because now she's _losing_ Remy.

Faith. Have faith. _Keep believing._ If she loses Remy, she'll find her again. Suvi exhales shakily, then sucks in one last breath and holds it as she reads the message.

And lets it go.

 _[I couldn't kill her.]_

"Remy," Suvi blurts, wishing the woman was here to hear her. She could, if she sets up a channel, but she doesn't want to scare Remy off or discourage her since she can't talk—not yet, anyways. _Keep believing._ It will happen someday. It will get better.

Typing back, Suvi struggles to keep her relief and excitement contained as she chooses her words carefully. _{_ _You did the right thing, Remy. It probably doesn't feel that way, but it is, and I'm proud of you.}  
_

She can't imagine how heartbroken Remy must be over the loss of her friend, but it takes _tremendous_ strength to rise above that pain and anger to not immediately rush for revenge; well, she likely did, but it _screams_ volumes that someone—reckless and brash as she—did not follow through. She _does_ have the capability to stop herself.

Silence is not a promising response, though. Suvi re-reads her own message over and over again, praying it hasn't come across negatively. Maybe Remy doesn't know how to react, or how to put it in words? She's a woman of action; Suvi wishes she _could_ take action and hug and comfort and just bloody _be there_ in Remy's time of need. Suvi may have not lost in the sense the engineer has, but for a moment, she believed she'd lost Remy, and she never wants to feel that ever again.

Not knowing what else to say herself, though, Suvi opts out for simple questions—that will hopefully have simple answers. _{Where is that woman now? What's her name?}_

Sent. Wait. Waiting...

Waiting...

 _Waiting..._

God, this is **excruciating.** It's giving too much time to over-think and doubt every little thing down to the tiniest detail. Suvi quickly pokes her head out to see if there's anybody else in the crew quarters, catching Kallo sleeping away in his bunk. She hides under the sheets again and bites her lip to make sure she won't blurt anything else anymore, selfishly hogging this moment of privacy without everyone coddling her.

She appreciates their gestures, she does, but she's a grown woman. She's not the only one on this ship that's hurting. Everyone should be more concerned about Remy— _Remedy Kedar,_ not 'the exile'—instead.

A buzz. Suvi nearly hits herself in the face with how fast she lifts her arm to her face, barely suppressing the cheer in her chest at Remy's response.

 _[Summer. Reminds me of a certain someone—won't say who.]_ Somewhere on Kadara, a certain someone is grinning mischievously. Suvi can imagine it perfectly. _[She's at my house, told her she should hitch a ride off this planet because she's still a target_ _—not mine, not anymore, but the guy who sent me after her. She lied about kids; don't blame her, would've done the same if I had a gun jammed against my head.]_

Fear shivers through Suvi and goosebumps break out as the hair on her nape stands. It's terrifying just to imagine _how close_ Remy was—no, no imagining this whatsoever. Focus on the positive. Suvi types back. _{She can come on the Tempest and we can escort her off of Kadara.}_ She says that as if the Pathfinder will agree.

Another miracle to start praying for. Suvi is going to get herself kicked off this crew if she keeps forcing the Pathfinder to help exiles nobody has a clue about, but... This may be a wee bit of an opportunity for Remy to escort Summer to the Tempest and hopefully come back on board herself.

Also another miracle to start praying for, in case if the Pathfinder finds evidence of the worst and says absolutely not.

 _Shite..._ Suvi still has no idea where she stands. This see-saw ride of what she should do is heart-wrenching and she's constantly at war with herself: forgive Remy? Punish Remy?

Who is Suvi to judge?

There's still so much unknown, and the rational part of her keeps trying to warn her to stop letting emotion and hope sway her so much. She can't _help_ it. She believes—wants to believe—that there's still a way to fix this mess. She believes that there's a part of Remy that wants the same.

A ping.

 _[That answer came awfully fast, Suvi.]_

Something tells Suvi that there's a mischievous grin hiding behind that message. And here she always thought the devil was just a metaphor.

 _[I'll refrain from promising Summer that until you actually ask your pathfinder. I know you like trouble, otherwise you wouldn't like me, but please stop getting in trouble.]_

Suvi scoffs quietly, smiling. "Those are bold claims, Remy..." Her hand hovers over her omni-tool, tearing herself for a witty comeback. She can't think of one; she's too god damn happy that she's back to bantering this way, even if Remy is obviously forcing herself for Suvi's sake; but it's better than the alternative, no?

Unfortunately, the bliss doesn't last. Remy's skepticism drenches every word in her next message. _[Am I doing the right thing, Suvi? I have no idea what I'm doing or why I'm helping this woman. I don't know who she is. I don't know if 'Summer' is her real name.]_ Just like Sa'mosa; Suvi's starting to sense the theme here. _[She's also salty as fuck now. Which I get. But still.]_

Mm. This sounds awfully familiar. Suvi can't help but chuckle to herself, remembering the time and wonders when she had reached out to Remy herself.

Mulling on her thoughts, Suvi ponders on the right thing to say. Is there such a thing? There's no question about it that Remy _is_ doing the right thing, but if she's doubting it, she's going to need answers and facts and probably even bloody data to convince her it's right; and even then, Suvi knows emotion will always be the winning factor in any debate with Remy.

So how can she make Remy _feel?_

Eons-long minutes pass by as Suvi struggles with what to say. She bites her lip when Remy sends a disheartening message.

 _[Silence is an answer too. If it's not right, what should I do?]_

She's asking that as if _Suvi_ knows what to do; where the bloody hell did Remy get that impression? Suvi flies by the fly of her breeks half the time. The other half is spent panicking.

 _{You are doing the right thing, Remy.}_ She starts, wondering where she planned on finishing. She chews her lip. She can't shake off the feeling like something's amiss; it's all well and good that Remy didn't harm Summer, but there had to be a _reason_ or feeling that was strong enough to hold her back. The only feeling that could be is the same feeling plaguing her now.

Doubt.

 _{Tell me this: do you believe Summer is the one who harmed Sa'mosa?}_ Suvi presses send before she has a chance to over-analyze and erase and think and give the wrong impression again. Every second counts with Remy, and she's going to make the most of the time she's being given. She can't do nothing without it.

Her heart jumps at the next buzz.

 _[No.]_

"Yes!" Suvi cheers before she can stop it in time, her mouth pulling ear to ear as she smiles brightly. This is fantastic news—proof, too, that there _is_ hope. Her victory is short-lived though, when she's smacked with a cryptic message; a Caesar cipher to unravel, just like when they first communicated with each other.

 _[_ _Ehfdxvh Vd'prvd lv 'ghdg' olnh ph. Vxpphu mxvw wrog ph khu uhdo qdph lv Dpudn.]_

Math, Suvi's favorite. She imagines the alphabet and calculates each letter in it's respective spot... Right shift by 3, that's not too bad.

But her dreadful feeling finishes brewing. She has _proof_ that this isn't going to end well. If Remy feels the need to encrypt her message, then there's a very real chance that their comm-link has been jeopardized.

"Because Sa'mosa is 'dead' like me. Summer just told me her real name is Amrak."

And if the comm-link's jeopardized...

Suvi freezes. The Caesar cipher. Switching letters around. Amrak.

 **Karma.**

The final piece of the puzzle falls in place and Suvi shoots up into sitting, yelping when she hits her head again—but she can't _afford_ to be deterred for a single second. Every second counts with Remy; literally, now, if the worst comes to pass.

 _{GET AWAY NOW!}_


	22. Chapter 22

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: **UPDATE NOV.27 -** For those checking in to see if this story is updated, I promise I am working on the next chapter! I am so sorry for the delay, I had a car accident but am now recovering and slowly hobble-cobbling chapter 23 together. Thank you for checking in and staying on this journey. I promise I'll bring something soon. Hope you have a lovely day!

* * *

This is Karma, alright.

Remy should've killed the bitch when she had the chance—out of the million goddamn chances she had.

Ugh, she can see Suvi's puppy eyes, though, and it's already guilt-tripping the fuck out of her. The things Remy does, sometimes...

Flattening against a wall, she holds her breath and listens for footsteps. She bites her tongue hard enough to sting when 'Amrak' fires a shot into the ceiling, probably to startle Remy and give away her hiding spot. And destroy her— _family's_ —house. That fucking asshole is just begging to have another one ripped open.

Buzzes go off along Remy's forearm and she clicks her tongue off the roof of her mouth—wait, when could she do _that?!_ —in annoyance. Now's not the time to be excited; or the time to try again, which she does, but seriously. Not the time. Another buzz.

 _'Suvi, I hate waiting just as much as you, but please... Gimme a minute.'_ Remy inwardly begs, struggling to hold back a plethora of curses over her situation. She really has the worst luck. And she's dumb as fuck. How had she fallen for this so god damn easily? The conniving bitch has the look of a mindless animal; acting like one, too, with how she's trashing Remy's place.

There's no way Remy can run fast enough—there's no outrunning a bullet. She needs her hoverboard. If she can just get to that... But she has to wait.

Another buzz.

 _'Fuck waiting, I totally get you, Suvi, but **please**... Gimme another minute!' _Remy screams inside her mind, trapped—just like how she's trapped right now. She can't hear footsteps above the thundering of her heart. If it could just calm the fuck down, that'd be awesome. If Amrak—Summer, Karma, 'Asshole'—could do the same, that'd be _perfect._

When the hell has anything been perfect in Remy's life, though?

Besides Suvi.

Ugh, not the time! Life-threatening situation, potentially may actually fucking die with all nine lives expended? Yeah. This is definitely a priority. There's no one to pull her ass out this fire she's started this time. Remy quietly sucks in a breath and holds it, steeling herself to steal a quick look around the corner. She doesn't see Asshole anywhere. Remy's nose tickles.

 _Tickles?_

Pure dread wells up her and she doesn't react fast enough. She sneezes.

And sneezes.

And coughs.

Silence looms over the house like it's a graveyard. It will be one soon.

" _Fuck,_ " Remy hisses, scrambling out of the corner when she hears something crash to her right. She leaps and dives over a table, yelping when the shotgun fires and chips away at the ground she was _just_ standing on a second ago. She knocks the table over and grunts when it slams into her from the force of the next shot.

Her entire arm vibrates. It gives her an idea—a _naughty_ one—but every single muscle spindle and fiber screams a hail of swear words instead. She can't help the urge of wanting to program a new status on her omni-tool that'll show up as: _BUSY TRYING NOT TO DIE,_ since it'd really showcase what her life's been like in Andromeda all this time, but she doesn't want to give Suvi a heart attack.

Footsteps slam and rush towards her and she's still squished by the table. She rolls on her back and rests her feet against the table, bracing herself as she activates the jump-jets on her calves. They ignite to life and blow the metal table back at Asshole, and Remy laughs maniacally as she watches the woman get knocked down, hailing cusses every which way.

 _Revenge! Victory!  
_

Not for long, though. Remy clambers on her hands and feet, rushing for the shotgun before Asshole has a chance to recover and get it, but she does. Remy slews cusses under her breath as she pivots and grabs the nearest thing—a fucking stupid lamp—and throws it before she turns tail and runs.

Forget the gun. It's lost to her now, just like Sa'mosa.

...But Remy just can't let go.

She has to secure her escape first before she secures the shotgun though. She runs down the hallway to the salvage room, frowning in confusion when there's several parts littering the hallway. It wouldn't make sense for Asshole to come all the way out here and drag random pieces out... But when she enters the salvage room, her stomach twists in rage.

Someone was _in here._

Nothing seems taken, though, except only the other most vital piece to her fucking survival right now: her turret. It takes expensive pieces of salvage to build a good one, and she blew up her last one.

" _Fuck... Sss-ay-kuh..._ " She can't afford to stop though. Remy sifts through the chaos and rushes to the hoverboard on her workbench. Whatever she was tuning up before will have to wait. She can hear Asshole nearing, laughing, firing another shot—hopefully at the ceiling again. Remy prays that dumbass is going to blow it out and make it cave on her.

Fantasizing murderous things isn't the same as carrying out murder, is it?

Ugh, there are the puppy eyes swimming in her mind again...

Hopping on the hoverboard, Remy kneels and passes her hand over a panel to engage the thermal radar.

 _Three_ dots?

...Hello~ backup plan.

Remy smiles grimly at the memory. Last time this happened, Reyes had a sniper just in case—just for her. What if this is a set up? What if she's the one he wants to get rid of? Karma's a fitting codename, then. Another shot chips and ricochets nearby, and she yelps; she's no soldier, and—barring the _accident_ when she fought by Sa'mosa's side—she's no killer. She can't fight. She has to build and use something to do the fighting _for_ her.

An idea pops up. She looks down at her hoverboard. Remy activates it via the DNA-signature panel—sighing when it doesn't work, and she has to switch to the hand that _wasn't_ burned—and braces herself as the thrusters fire. _Fire._ It's loud, echoing; Asshole will definitely know to come here.

 **Good.** There's a surprise waiting for her.

Remy surfs the air—a smirk tugging her lips at that—and moves closer to hug the wall, beside the door. Not that hiding is an option anymore. She steals a peek around the corner, hastily taking cover when Asshole is right there, aiming the shotgun. Remy squeezes her fists and bites back the next yelp when the trigger's pulled. Will she ever get used to this godawful sound? She doesn't remember this when she was using the gun.

"Come out, come out. I'll make it nice and quick; painless too. _Promise!_ " The degraded woman laughs, making a fair amount of noise herself when she slams something to make it shriek. Remy steals another look, and forces herself to reign in her fury when Asshole has the _nerve_ to scrape the shotgun against the metal grates.

She'll pay for that soon enough.

Remy counts the seconds—counts the steps too. If each step remains the same distance, it ought to take Asshole roughly five more until she's within _burning_ distance. Remy kneels, one hand grabbing the edge of the board, trying to quell the thundering in her heart and ignore the buzzing of her omni-tool—a _useless_ omni-tool, at that; the Pathfinder is going to have hell to pay for throwing her to the wolves without any goddamn means to defend herself.

"Fff-or..." she whispers under her breath, then holds it until she waits for—"fii-vuh." Remy adjusts the thrusters' power as she leans to sail forth, then pulls on the edge of the hoverboard and _aims_ it at Asshole. The moment the board kicks, and the thrusters fire louder, a banshee scream floods the house and Remy grunts when she falls off the board. It immediately disengages without her, and she scrambles to climb back on it.

Nausea rocks her to the core when she makes the mistake of looking over at Asshole, forearm totally melted, half her face singed, rolling about and howling in agony. She tried to protect herself. She should've done that by not pursuing Remy in the first place.

It's not Remy's fault. It's not. It _can't_ be. She has to do whatever it takes to survive. She's the hero Suvi thinks—wishes—of. She's not a criminal. She's a good person.

She is... Right?

-—-—-—-—-—-

"One sec, Suvi, busy trying not to die!" Sara yells as she makes a mad dash for the vault's gravity well. The frantic comm chatter bleeds out to the white noise and adrenaline and furious death cloud and _fear,_ and all she can think about is doing whatever the hell it takes to survive. Her helmet's flashing all sorts of warning signs about her suit and her jump-jet. As long as it saves her ass, she doesn't care if her gear fries.

Unless it fries her with it. Then there's a wee bit of a problem.

Static clicks incessantly as Suvi's voice fades in and out; is that the signal, or Sara's heart beating it out of her ears? Her throat burns and she can't swallow the lump. She scrambles on hands and feet when she stumbles, wheezing her gratitude when Vetra grabs her arm and helps her up.

"There's the panel! You guys get to the gravity well!" Sara croaks, grimacing at how hoarse she sounds. Spoken like a true Pathfinder. Right. Somewhere, someone is rolling their eyes. She pushes the persistent doubts out of her head as she rushes for the panel, breathing " _SAM, please_ " over and over again as she slams her hand down to interface. A rush of tingles floods her fingers as the connection establishes. She looks up and watches in awe and horror as the purification field approaches, ready to swallow her whole.

"Hurry up, SAM!" she yells, grunting when the tingles intensify and burn. The final stretch, the final second. Her heart climbs to her throat and her mouth opens in a silent scream when the cloud is _right there,_ waiting to disintegrate her until there's no trace of her; no proof that she's ever existed.

And the field recedes—the ringing in her ears doesn't, though. It isn't until adrenaline slowly fades away that dizziness and nausea creep in, and Sara holds on to the panel as if her life depends on it. Her legs certainly do. Her whole body is shaking. A mirthless chuckle slips out of her and her head falls. "Man... How many times have we done this? Still not any less terrifying."

 _"Pathfinder, are you alright? Are you receiving this transmission?!"_ Suvi calls out on the comms, and the frantic tone sets Sara on high alert. No rest for the wicked. She exchanges confused looks with Jaal and Vetra, heading over to the gravity well with them as she reports on the comms.

"I am, sorry for the hold up. What's going on now?"

 _Now._ Never a dull moment on this fucked up planet; never a shortage of things trying to kill her, too.

 _"Oh, thank god. Pathfinder, please, Remy needs your help! Someone is trying to kill her!"_

At least she's not the only one; something Sara and Remy share in common. Maybe they can share a beer and swap stories, someday.

"That didn't take long," Sara grumbles under her breath, sighing. She heads to the center of the well and braces herself for the lift. "Suvi, do you have her location?"

 _"I'm sending you the nav-point now! Cora is on her way with Peebee—"_ Peebee and Cora? Great. Sara is never going to hear the end of this. _"A_ _nd Drack!"_

Nevermind. This is worse.

"Drack?" Sara groans. "Cora couldn't take _anybody_ else? Even Gil? Is Drack the reason why Remy needs help now?" There's a pause on the comms. Sara touches down at the top of the vault and checks on her team, a frown etched on all their faces from the news. Suvi's voice crackles to life, but only to communicate on the other channel with Cora. The Pathfinder team receives nav-points and engage their omni-tools. Dread and guilt tangles in Sara's stomach like barbed fucking wire.

Vetra pats her shoulder on the rush back to the Nomad. "That's her _house,_ Ryder. There's no where else she can hide now."

"Yeah, someone must've tracked her down. Or maybe us...?" Sara seethes, gritting her teeth as she and Jaal sprint to the rover, climbing inside and activating their respective stations. "Would it be too much to ask all the exiles to stop trying to fucking kill each other and smell the roses?"

"There is no end to them. Where are all these outlaws coming from?" Jaal asks, prompting Sara to stop and stare and think about the deceivingly simple question.

"Now that you're asking..." Vetra mutters, looking over her chair at Sara. "I'm pretty sure we've killed more exiles than there were people in the Initiative to begin with."

"That'll stop soon. Or, at least, here's hoping changing Kadara will also change a lot of minds about us." Sara sighs, taking the wheel and ramming her foot down on the gas pedal. "Vetra, take the wheel while Jaal monitors your radars. I'm gonna take the turret apart and see what SAM can learn from it before we save Remy's ass again."

 _Again._

How many more times will Sara have to do this? Another sigh tumbles out of her. "When this bullshit ends, I need a six month vacation twice a year."

-—-—-—-—-—-

"I got your message. Where is she, Suvi?" Lexi demands as she marches into the bridge, heading straight for the map. "She's in no shape to fight or fend for herself right now. I need to speak with her and make sure she's mindful of her injuries before she's beyond recovery."

"I'm working on it." Suvi sounds hoarse and strained. Lexi braces herself as she looks over her colleague's shoulder, biting back a groan when she spots a runny nose and a rosy complexion. This stubborn woman stressed herself sick. "She hasn't responded to my messages. Peebee's on site trying to hack into the defenses—said Remy hadn't even tried to reactivate them. There's blood everywhere in the house but nobody's inside." Suvi worries her lip and looks up at Lexi, fear swimming in sheen eyes. "Lexi, what if she's...?"

Lexi says nothing, opting just to squeeze Suvi's shoulder. False hope is worse. It's an ending they'll all have to be prepared for, and an engineer didn't even have time to reboot her only means of defense. She stands no chance against someone who may be a trained soldier. _Maybe._ It strikes an idea.

"Do we know anything about the woman pursuing Ms. Kedar?"

"No, nothing. I've searched all names through all Initiative records and ran it through SAM and all databases available in Kadara. If only I had a physical description..." Suvi bites her lip harder, redirecting her gaze back to all the open comm channels and several maps—physical, topographic, climatic, _everything_ readily available. She's desperate. Lexi wishes there was reliable evidence that proved Remedy's still alive and well; at least, as well as one can be in her situation.

"Do you want me to fly around, see if our sensors pick up anything? Maybe it'll help the ground team, somehow." Kallo offers, but Suvi shakes her head.

"No, we'll just turn into a target and attract even more people to come, then they'll turn Remy's home into a war zone."

 _Everywhere_ on Kadara is a war zone.

Lexi bites her tongue before she blurts that out, though. She watches Suvi carefully, looking away every time she hears the frustration and hopelessness in her colleague's shambling voice. When will this stop? It won't stop at just a cold, that's for sure. It won't stop at just brain surgery, either; Lexi grimaces at the thought. Remy better not find herself in the med-bay again—for her sake, but mostly Suvi's. There's only so much a heart of gold can take before it corrodes.

Remy's proof of that.

Pings draw their attention to one of Suvi's screens, and she cries out a small "yes!"

 _[ **Remedy Kedar: 1 unread message.** ]_

Her hand quivers as it hovers over to open it, though. Lexi reaches and squeezes Suvi's shoulder again, warning gently. "It's too early to celebrate; you said Ms. Kedar encrypted her last message, yes? If your comm-link to her has been compromised then we have to make sure that this is _her_ and not anybody else."

Suvi closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "...You're right." Small, shaky. This needs to end so that Suvi is back to her warm and cheerful and curious self. "What can we do to confirm that it's her, though?"

"Can we open a comm channel with her?" Lexi asks, leaning over on to the dashboard. "Unless it'll jeopardize her position, but—well, let's see what she wrote." She waits for Suvi, hand still trembling, and squeezes firmly. Lexi wards her colleague's hand away and takes responsibility, opening the message. They both frown.

 _[I'm okay, so far. Hiding.]_

"That's it?" Suvi blurts exasperatedly, shoulders caving. "Can't she tell us more? Hiding _where?_ If she's not at her house—"

"Open a comm channel. We'll find out soon enough."

Suvi gives Lexi a wary look, but starts setting up a private frequency. "If she can't talk, though..."

"She can." Lexi doesn't elaborate anything more and stands by, watching the flat comm-line, waiting for it to move. It does. Heavy static crackles to life, along with what sounds like shuffling.

"Remy!" Suvi cries out with relief. It's still too soon to tell. "Is that you? Are you okay?"

More static, then grunting. It's too hard to hear if that's _her_. Lexi activates her omni-tool and searches for Remedy's medical record to ensure she has the right information. There's one sure way to find out who the woman on the other end of the line is. "Ms. Kedar, with comms compromised—" she ignores the way Suvi's head snaps to her, waving for her attention. "—I have security questions to verify that it is indeed you. Please answer one of the two. First question: what is your designation number?"

 _G-66-Archimedes;_ it should be painfully easy for an engineer to remember, if literally every aspect of the designation number plays a pivotal role in engineering. The gravitational constant, it's first two numbers, and Archimedes, one of the greatest mathematicians in the human species, who contributed and helped pave the foundation to their science.

And if Lexi knows all of that, then _surely_ Remy will too, right?

But, just in case...

"Second question." A subtle smirk tugs Lexi's mouth. "What is the first word you said after you woke up in the med-bay?"

The shuffling on the other end stops. Lexi closes her eyes and listens intently; any sound could be a vital clue. She feels Suvi's hand snake around her forearm, holding on—holding on to hope. The silence stretches, and the lengthy pause isn't promising, and—

 _"Ph-phh-phhh-uh-uuuh-ck."_

—that's Remy, alright.

Lexi's smirk widens. "You can't remember your designation number, but you can remember how many times you tried to say _that?_ "

Pause. A message is sent to them. _[I have to shut my omni-tool off. Someone's still following me and I think they've got my frequency.]_

"Wait, Remy!" Suvi lurches forward, working furiously to try and ping the exile's location. It slips right through her fingers when the connection is terminated.

 **SIGNAL NOT FOUND.**

"Shite!" Suvi hisses, hands slamming on the dashboard in frustration. "I almost had her! I just needed another second... Why couldn't she wait?!"

Almost; the saddest word, one Lexi wishes were obliterated for how many times she's heard it. She loathes it with every fiber of her being.

He was almost in love. She was almost good enough for him. He almost stopped her. She almost waited. He almost lived.

 _They almost made it._

Lexi frowns and hangs her head at the sounds of Suvi struggling not to cry, relaying information to everybody on the channels with a broken voice, fading in and out of existence. To this day, it still puzzles Lexi—why does Remy mean so much to Suvi? Why is she fighting like hell on this? Oh, right. Because Suvi was one stasis pod and revolt away from being in Remy's shoes.

She's fighting because this was _almost_ her.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Remy carries her hoverboard under one arm, and her shotgun—now empty—under the other. It's a matter of life or death, and she's still clinging on to sentimentality that's sooner to slow her down and get her killed. She just _can't_ let go. This is all she has left. She tries to tame her breathing as she flattens herself against a boulder, closing her eyes and listening for any movement that's not her own. She _knows_ there's someone on the other side; this is the third damn dot that was on the thermal radar and this asshole has her frequency—and soon, her life.

It's hard to hear anything above the hammering in her chest and buzzing in her ears. Nausea refuses to relent, and every time she tries to take a step to make a run for it, she swears she's going to fall over or—worse yet—pass out. Bile sits at the base of her throat; her mind races with images, _memories,_ of blood and intestines and melted arms and motionless bodies.

Karma's come for her—again, as usual. The footsteps sound different though. Not 'Amrak' this time, then. Is she even still alive anymore?

If only Remy had the courage to check; maybe even expend medical supplies—she wouldn't _treat_ the asshole, necessarily, but she could've dropped a kit close enough to reach for, instead of hightailing it out of there like a coward.

She's no hero.

It hurts to _know_ that Suvi would be disappointed with her; and, even worse, Suvi would still smile that warm smile and play it polite, and calm, and confident, and genuinely kind, lying and insisting that Remy is in fact a hero—and then proceed to grasp at any example that can be spun and woven into edible garbage.

But here she is, hiding, unable to save herself. She's tired of being the damsel in fucking distress, goddammit. Give her parts, give her something she can build right here so that she has the means to save herself. All she can do is use the stupid shotgun as a battering club, or melt more arms off with the hoverboard.

" _Ugh_ _..._ " Shivers roll through Remy; she doesn't want to repeat that, if she can help it. It's too painful, too grotesque and repulsive and all the things that prove that Remy is, in fact, the worst fucking scum of an exile alive on this godforsaken planet.

Everything the krogan said to and about her—what she remembers and _assumes_ , anyways—was right.

She's as rotten as the man she killed with the very shotgun sentimentality oh so treasures. Says a ton about her, then, doesn't it?

This war inside of her is tearing her apart. All she can think about is how much she fucking hates this place and what it's forcing her to do and who it's forcing her to become, while thinking about all the good things that were doing a mighty convincing job of changing her mind of all the things she _thought_ was bad. She desperately wishes she could be back inside the med-bay, bantering and quipping and teasing anyone and everyone that took a chance and took time to put up with her. She misses Suvi. She misses Sa'mosa. She misses the family who took her in as one of their own and reminded her that she's human—not just physically, but emotionally.

Is it too much to ask for, to have a piece of _any_ of that again?

Remy's throat tightens and a lump grows. This dreadful feeling knotting her stomach strengthens while hope weakens. She _knows_ this is it. She knows there's someone here and they already have their sights on her and she just _can't fucking move_ or open her eyes or even scream—no matter how garbled it'd be.

She drops her hoverboard and blindly cradles the shotgun in her hands, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter, struggling to calm her erratic breathing when she can hear footsteps nearing. Then her last means of defense is plucked from her hands; so easy, so casual. Cold air skirts across her palms, taunting warm breaths patter against her nose—a tickling nose. This is the one and only time she'll gladly fucking sneeze; the legendary siege of the snot. She still can't bring herself to open her eyes, though. If she does, it might be the last time... As if toddler logic is any better.

A shudder rolls down Remy's back.

A familiar shudder.

...Oh.

 _NO._

Not this. Anything _but_ this. This is definitely the absolute fucking worst possible thing that could ever happen right now. Someone please actually kill her.

"I hope you haven't forgotten how to stay alive, darling."

Adrenaline ignites and Remy's eyes snap open in disbelief, confirming her _worst fucking fear._ She sees Sa'mosa's smug face.

Then **nothing.**

This is Karma, alright.


	23. Chapter 23

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long on this update. I had a car accident a while ago and am still recovering, so writing is much slower with tiny pieces written every day. Thank you for being patient and for staying on this bumpy ride; hope you enjoy and have a lovely day!

* * *

"She's more trouble than she's worth, kid." Drack grumbles as he helps Sara comb the house for clues. She can't deal with Cora or Peebee right now, and Vetra and Jaal—the only team trusted to just search for the exile and not give up or _kill_ her—are too far gone to help save Sara's sanity now.

"She is, but I'm not doing this for her." Sara admits readily, studying a table with two fist-sized dents that are charred. She scans whatever she can't guess has happened, hoping she might come upon another clue regarding the angaran family the exile apparently lived with. The turret shed nothing enlightening, confirming only what was already known; it's unique energy signature fits the records of the deceased in Dr. Nakamoto's charts.

This home is quite far away from his clinic, though. Someone had to transport them. It wouldn't make sense for Remy to try to save them if she wanted to kill them.

Drack says something, but it bleeds out to Sara's thoughts as she tries to piece the puzzle together. Little by little, she paints a bigger picture, but she only has the background. She needs to find Remy and confirm what happened for the sake of everybody's peace of mind. Nothing in here is bringing them any closer to the exile, though.

"SAM, any chance you got _any_ record of the woman that attacked Remy?"

 _"Negative, Pathfinder. I have not found a match in DNA signatures. It appears they have been hacked and deleted."_

Who would even have that sort of skillset?

"Great... Exactly what we need right now." Sara scans blood stains in the hallway, noting that most everything she's scanned so far doesn't belong to the engineer. Is that good or bad news though? It's a lot of blood. "Even if the attacker ran away, she's going to bleed out if she doesn't get treatment." Sara follows a trail smearing along the floor, towards the door. It stops in the middle of the room. "Looks like she dragged herself, then whoever else pursued Remy had taken the attacker too. Rival, or ally?"

Drack grunts. "Neither option sounds good, kid."

"Yeah," Sara sighs. "C'mon, let's go see if anyone found any clues outside. If we can figure out who Remy pissed off in the first place, then maybe we'll find her."

-—-—-—-—-—-

Outcast gear.

" _Fuck._ " Remy's brain feels like it's on fire, and she groans as she hangs forward, wincing when something cuts into her wrists. She blinks blearily at them. Handcuffs. " _Fuck ed..._"

"Reel in the credits, people, told you that's the first _and_ second thing she'd say." A familiar voice pipes up, and Remy squints at the people in outcast gear in front of her. She doesn't say anything when she catches a hazy sight of Sa'mosa's grin. Why the hell did this idiot join the outcasts? Has she been one all along, or is this the only way she could play 'dead' too? Is she hiding from Reyes? Joining the outcasts seems counter-productive if she's still running missions though.

"Fuckin' bitch," another outcast growled. "You know her, it don't count."

"Don't have to know nobody to know that's what they all say," Sa'mosa counters with a shrug, engaging her omni-tool. "Credits up front." The other outcast reached for their pistol, but something seemed to stop him and he looked at his hand in confusion. In the blink of an eye, a blade pierces hobble-cobbled gear and embeds deep into his gut, twisting and goading sounds no human should ever make. Remy doesn't look away in time. Shudders roll down her spine at Sa'mosa's hauntingly vicious tone. "Pistols in the back."

Discontent murmurs trail in the air among the other outcasts, but none dare challenge Sa'mosa openly. Remy studies the way they look at the asari, and how their body language screams fear—the power structure is always at war, and she's not liking her chances that Sa'mosa appears to be the leader here.

For now, anyways.

"Now, where were we?" Sa'mosa turns with a smile like nothing ever happened—the fucking snake—and smugly saunters to Remy. "How are you, old friend?"

Some friend, kidnapping her for real this time. If only Remy could verbalize that.

"How's _Nexus_ been, darling?" Sa'mosa spits the term, and the other outcasts sneer in disgust. "They pamper you and wipe your ass?"

Remy stares blankly, confused, until she glances down at her Initiative hoodie. What a pretty picture this paints; she's going to cry if she dies because of this stupid sweater—and then she'll come back to haunt Peebee for the rest of her fucking century-long life.

"Not going to talk, hm?"

She doesn't exactly have a choice.

"You can't last forever." Sa'mosa kneels, all deceivingly sweet smiles and all.

Remy lurches forward and gasps when an invisible force hits her stomach and curls up, digging under her ribs. The chair tilts back and she braces herself for the fall, praying what little's left of her brain survives it—and she's caught mid-air, calmly put back down. Saliva trickles out of her mouth uncontrollably, heaving desperately as nausea chokes her at her throat. Tears bite her eyes when a rough hand grabs her ponytail and yanks her head back, pulling on her scar.

" **Talk**! What does Nexus want with Kadara?!" Sa'mosa barks, and Remy swears her voice cracks for a second. "How could you go back to them after everything they did?"

"Ah-mm..." Remy stammers, trying to force it out through clenched teeth—she didn't know she can do that now either. Seems a lot of things are only happening now when she doesn't want them to. "Ni... T-tuhl." She sucks in deep breaths and groans when her hair is tugged harder, and she tries to lean her head back so that her cap falls off.

"Omni-tool?" Sa'mosa stares, confused, but she lets go. "The hell are you talking like that for? Got a broken jaw?" She looks at one of the outcasts. "Did you scan her?" They shift nervously with dumb looks on their faces, and Sa'mosa sighs. She activates her omni-tool and takes it upon herself to scan Remy, who closes her eyes when the bright light showers over her. She rattles the cuffs without thinking, wanting to reach to type.

Hot anger explodes in her chest without warning, and she growls as she jerks forward, straining the cuffs against the chair. The other voices bleed out to the dizzying white noise ringing in her ears and the blood pounding in her skull; searing agony shoots down from her spine to her legs and her body relinquishes control.

Fear takes over. She doesn't know what's happening to her body, to her _mind,_ and anxiety consumes the flames burning her from the inside-out. She swears she's going to pass out and breathes erratically, unfocused gaze darting about, black dots swimming in her vision.

Cold hands frame her jaw and force her to look up, but she flinches and jerks away from the pain touch alone has on her skin. It grates her nerves like sandpaper on gravel; she barely hears her own mindless scream. Her muscles seize, lock, spasm, trapping her in her own body—then she's lighter, like she's made of air, only to come crashing back against frigid tiles, chest heaving sporadically. She's looking and looking until she suddenly has no breath and gasps, choking and coughing and _crying_ when too many thoughts cram into her mind and she can't make sense of any of them.

But at least she's back, whatever that even means.

What is happening to her, why did she lose control? Are biotics capable of something like that? Every ounce of energy has been ripped away. If only there were a bed around; she'd sleep forever. She blinks her tears away and swallows her wounded pride, scrambling to look as fierce as one can, knocked over on the floor. Some outcasts look confused, and the others look like they'd seen something terrifying. Sa'mosa's face pisses her off the most— _p_ _ity._

"F-fuck... You..." Remy hisses through clenched teeth, grimacing at how stiff and locked her jaw still is. A headache drills between her eyes and she groans, turning—however awkwardly with the chair—and seeking more contact with the cold tiles. She bumps the brim of her hat up until it flops off her head and catches on her ponytail, but even the smallest of cool air is better than nothing at all. She tries to glare when Sa'mosa sighs, walking behind her. The handcuffs are off and Remy hastily cradles her numb wrists, rubbing sensation back into them, and never taking her eyes off the outcasts.

"What the hell was that?" Murmurs one of them.

"Seizure, looked like."

Remy freezes. Her eyes snap back to Sa'mosa as the asari steps over her, then hoists her up into standing. "Move, whelp. We ain't got all day."

Remy digs in her heels as stubbornly as she can, but there's no overpowering the invisible force that pushes her around like a ragdoll anyways. She snarls at Sa'mosa, who shrugs it off and pushes her by the shoulders. The outcasts split like the sea and quietly watch at a _safer_ distance, as if they're scared of catching whatever she may have.

"Where you takin' her? The boss said—"

"The boss isn't back for another hour," Sa'mosa interjects, "I'm taking her outside before she has another spell and ends up pissing all over the floor."

Oh, how kind of her.

"Ass _ss..._ _H-_ hol-uh," Remy mutters, too weak to fight back. Too weak to walk. Her legs aren't listening and doing what she wants them to do—she's had this before. Fear thrums stronger; she can't fight the unknown, the unseen. How is she supposed to if she doesn't understand what's going on in her brain?

Sa'mosa doesn't say anything as she drags the engineer outside, hissing cusses and threats along the way. Remy doesn't listen. She doesn't _care._ The woman she tried to avenge, the woman she thought she called her friend... Is just like any other exile on this god-forsaken shit hole. A backstabber.

Did Reyes set Remy up for this? Maybe he really did want her dead for her fuck up before—and now the job's going to be finished properly, with whatever apparent loyalties Sa'mosa had gone with the winds. But to think both of them were colluding with the Outcasts this entire time... Suppose that shouldn't be a surprise either, if that's where the credits are.

"Move faster," Sa'mosa shoves her, and Remy throws a glare. It's brushed off—or at least, she seems _different_ rather than indifferent. When they make it outside, an omni-tool is thrust in the engineer's face. "We got a minute before someone comes follow us out here. Do you or don't you remember how to stay alive?"

Remy gawks, totally bewildered. The question seems to be dripping in sarcasm, but everything about Sa'mosa's tone and honest-to-god _serious_ face—which is a red flag itself—screams otherwise. She types on the asari's omni-tool. _[What are you talking about?]_

"Ugh, of course you've forgotten." Sa'mosa groans, running a hand along her crest. She comes in close and grabs Remy's sweater before she flinches away, who panics when the asari closes in—only to whisper against her ear. "I'll lie to you when it matters most. Remember now? I'm not with them. Just play along and I'll figure out how I can pawn you off back to your buddies. Word is they're still docked in the port."

Is that the truth? It could just be another smoke screen. Remy warily watches, hoping she'll pick up anything that screams otherwise. Doubtful. She's no mastermind of social graces—nor nuances. _[I'm not welcome anymore. I got kicked off their ship.]_

"What?" Sa'mosa hisses, gaze darting to the side when the door opens. She shoves Remy by the chest until she slams against the wall, a self-satisfied smirk—that is so _clearly_ genuine and not an act—playing across her lips. "Sit and behave like a good girl, whelp." She turns to the other outcast, who's helmet makes it impossible to gauge what he's truly thinking. "I've got this handled. Stay inside and sit by the comms to make sure we don't miss our dead drop."

"Plenty of others monitoring. Figured I'd come back you up."

"Got somethin' wrong with your eyes? I'm pretty sure I can handle someone who can't walk or talk."

Ugh. What a low blow.

Remy shoots the asari the dirtiest look she can, but the look-that-kills is _still_ severely underdeveloped. She'll need to invest in eye implants capable of shooting fucking laser beams, or something.

...There's an idea for the future.

It's tempting to take a swing at Sa'mosa, but then it'd convince the other guard to stay for sure. Remy pretends to buckle and doubles over, forcing a guttural groan as she falls on her knees. Sa'mosa's hands are on her shoulders, a flash of worry on the asari's face. It's hard to tell if anything is fake or genuine anymore. Remy closes her eyes and slumps forward, bracing herself when she suddenly feels air rather than warmth. She bites back a grunt when she hits the ground.

"Fuck, this again," Sa'mosa sighs, and then her voice sounds farther away. "There, you happy? Pretty sure I can handle someone who's fucking passed out now."

"What are we gonna tell the boss? He's gonna think we did this to her and won't pay none of us."

"With what he's got planned for her, I doubt he's gonna care. You'll get your _credits,_ " Sa'mosa spits the last word venomously. "Now get your ass inside before you piss me off for her."

"Aye aye ma'am..."

As soon as the door clicks shut, she rolls on her back—with a promptly prepared middle finger—and stifles the smirk when Sa'mosa chuckles. "Yeah, yeah, you got a whole load of that saved up just for me. I get it." The asari offers her hand, something that suspicion _ought_ to scrutinize, but Remy goes ahead to take it.

And swipes air.

Remy sighs, helping herself to her own damn omni-tool. It doesn't escape her notice that it's in a severely limited functional state—no doubt Sa'mosa's doing, or a hacker on her 'team'.

Just as she's about to type, the asari wards her hand away and shakes her head sternly. She mouths silently: _"shut it off."_

Great. Remy's being tracked too. It's tempting to overload it with viruses until she gets her hands on another—someone else's—omni-tool, but then that'd just tip off whichever hacker is watching her. Sa'mosa's omni-tool waves in front of her and all levity dies in the first question.

 _[How am I supposed to get out of this if I have a tracker on me?]_

"Well, if you can't go back to your buddies then... I dunno..." Reluctance from this asari? That confirms it. This galaxy is fucked.

Remy scowls. _[So you brought me to them without a plan to get me out?]_ Eyes narrow in doubt, and the engineer tries to swallow the hot anger that churns in her chest. Fear strikes when she remembers the feeling just before she had her... Episode. She **must** remain calm—if anger even caused it last time. _[Can't we upload viruses to shut my omni-tool off? Then if I get my hoverboard back, I can make a break for it. They won't clue in fast enough before they take to the shuttles.]_

"And I'll be executed for making the mistake of letting you go, intentional or not."

So they're both fucked.

What's new.

Life is great.

 _[Run away with me then.]_

"What is this, an elopement?" Sa'mosa's off-handed remark almost brings warmth to the engineer's cheeks, but not of them marrying in particular. "My fat ass can't fit on that board."

 _[Well, your self-awareness has improved.]_

"Oh, stuff it," Sa'mosa chuckles, reaching for Remy's head. It's slapped away immediately. "Whoa, jeez, calm your tits." There's an image. The same image Peebee gave.

They're so related. They need to meet.

Or maybe not, so Remy can retain her sanity.

 _[I got messed up in the head.]_

"What's new?"

Remy gives a quick shove before yanking Sa'mosa's hand back for the omni-tool. She takes off her hat and bites down on the brim to hold it. The asari's eyes widen when Remy points to her scar—surprise? Worry? It's still hard to read her, or rather, her intentions. _[This is why I can't talk anymore._ _Brain surgery. Can't remember all the details, but apparently I 'required' it.]_

"Brain— _fuck..._ " Yeah, that summed up the engineer's reaction too. And what her brain felt like. "But you can still think? That's fucked up." Sa'mosa's fingers trace the curves of her crest. "That seizure you had, you get those all the time too?"

Remy bites her lip. _[That was the first time. I don't know what happened. You're sure it was a seizure?]_

"You were convulsing all over the place, darling." Stupid 'darling'. She'll never drop it, will she? "I thought your arms were gonna pop out the sockets with those handcuffs." There's a small measure of concern in her voice, but the asari clears her throat and leans against the wall, staring off at the sunset. She shakes her arm before holding it out awkwardly, grumbling something about soreness under her breath. The engineer bites her tongue to stop a smile from spreading along her face. She slides her arm under to help take off the weight.

 _[Thanks for coming back for me again.]_

Sa'mosa glances and reads the message from the corner of her eyes, then scoffs. She looks away. A hand sneaks up to her nape. "Don't thank me 'til I get you out again."

 _[Why are you helping me, anyways?]_ Remy pressures when she sees the beginnings of a dismissive wave. _[If I don't make it out of this alive, I want to know at least that much. You could've left me to die every single time shit hit the fan, even when your life was on the line. And I've seen you kill for nothing.]_ That last bite is hard to swallow. A memory flashes by, reminding her of the brutality she somehow witnessed when Sa'mosa stood over another asari, writing on a wall with her own blood. Was that a dream?

Remy doesn't have the courage to ask.

"Don't fry what little brain cells you have left just thinking about it," Sa'mosa starts as she shuts off her omni-tool and drops her arm—probably to take away the engineer's means to rebuttle. "It's not that complicated." She shrugs. "We got off on the wrong foot, but I like you now. Your charm's an acquired taste."

Remy freezes. What kind of like? Like... _Like_ like? Nah, couldn't be. Right?

She turns on her own omni-tool, forcing the asari to reactivate hers as she sighs. A subtle proud smirk dances on her lips. "Even surgery isn't enough to get that hot air out."

 _[I only like you as a friend, Sa'mosa.]_

Cue disappointment. The asari's shoulders cave; something smells fishy. The act is transparent the moment she grins mischievously. "That's nice, because I'm a friend that comes with benefits."

Remy rolls her eyes. _[And this is how I know you don't actually like me. Can you give me the real reason, now?]_

"Nothing gets past you," Sa'mosa chuckles, shaking her head as she takes her omni-tool away again. "But nope, you gotta work for it. I don't hand out freebies."

 _Ugh!_

Why does she always have to—

Something moves in the corner of Remy's eyes. The asari's voice and calls for her attention bleeds out to white noise. Remy looks over, her implants autonomously adjusting with her need to see farther away. The world is magnified at a dizzying speed; she stumbles and catches Sa'mosa's arm, but doesn't dare turn her head to see how many ugly pores this stubborn asari has.

Nauseating feelings rock Remy's stomach when she sees a rover speeding towards them. It isn't the typical run-of-the-mill rundown rovers; it looks familiar, though. When a hatch opens, and a krogan hangs out the side, it slams her heart against her ribcage. She saw that rover when she was escorted off the ship. The Initiative ship. The _Tempest team._ Another hatch opens, and an angaran peeks out with a sniper rifle.

Remy closes her eyes and prays her implants adjust in time. She tackles Sa'mosa down to the ground when the sound of a weapon brandishing and hissing fills the air. "What the hell are you doing?! Get off me! We're under attack, dumbass!"

If only Remy could talk. Instead, she wrestles for control and kicks the weapon away. An invisible force flings her off and she grunts when she hits the wall. She scrambles to her feet, guttural garbled gibberish tears from her throat when the deafening crack of a sniper rifle thunders in the air. Violet blood sprays the same second Sa'mosa's haunting scream pierces Remy's ears. The asari's arm hangs limp, but she still tries to aim her gun in the opposite hand.

Charging forward, Remy tackles Sa'mosa to the ground once more, and the door behind them crashes open as the outcasts flood out. Before biotics can fling her off again, she hugs the asari—arms _and_ legs—as tightly as she can, crossing her prosthetic legs and engaging the magnets for them to lock together.

Pained cusses flood her ears, but she can't care. This idiot is going to get herself killed over a misunderstanding. They wrestle awkwardly, and Remy grimaces every time they roll back and forth on her arms. Bits of soil flies up at them—soil rapidly staining with Sa'mosa's blood. Outcasts' cries roar in the battlefield, both rallying and dying.

Silence falls within minutes, and the sound of a rover creeping up on them is all that's needed for Remy to let her guard down. She groans when the back of her head continuously thuds against the ground, sending tendrils of pain down her skull.

"Let go of me, whelp! We're next if—"

 _"I'm lost here. Is this a fight or what, Remy?"_ A familiar voice booms on speakers. Remy recognizes it as the Pathfinder's—wonders when she has become 'Remy' and not 'Exile'—and she quickly waves for help before she has to lock her arms back down to keep the _animal_ contained. The rover stops just inches from their heads, and Sa'mosa quietly stills when the massive wheels come too close for comfort.

"We're dead, we're so fucking dead," she hisses, glaring at Remy. "And you're the reason. You're always the fucking reason when we're going to die and—"

"Relax, nobody's dying. Not anymore." Boots hit the ground. Sara comes over, hands on hips, an amused look on her face. An entire team is at her back, weapons out.

When Sa'mosa looks up, struggling to conceal her pain, she slews a string of cusses. "You! Fucking _you!_ Just my luck! Somebody kill me now..."

"Aw, I'm touched by how sweet that is." Sara grins wickedly. "Nice to see you again, too."

Right.

Remy gets this.

No she doesn't.

"Let go of her, Remy, she needs medical attention." Sara commands softly—if such is possible—and kneels, putting a hand on Remy's shoulder. It still keeps rocking back and forth when the asari wrestles fruitlessly. The invisible force pushing into Remy's stomach suddenly disappears, and she notes how Peebee and one other human woman have their hands out, towards Sa'mosa. "Let go," Sara urges again, but for some reason, her touch makes the engineer tighten her grip.

Remy buries her face in Sa'mosa's neck, and—out of nowhere—the _noise_ stops and a tidal wave of emotions crash down. Her heart surges to her throat and she doesn't swallow her tiny cry in time. She's still afraid she's going to lose Sa'mosa. She's still afraid this isn't real.

Hands are on her before she can think to fight it off, but her strength is drained the moment someone figures out how to unlock her legs—a shade of blue buzzes in her spinning world, clouding with dark dots. Peebee? Voices surround her, but she can't discern any of them as panic wells up and her head hurts more and more; then she's trapped inside her body, feeling, but not reacting.

Control is gone.

Everyone's yelling. The Pathfinder's calling for Lexi, and an emergency landing. Sa'mosa is cursing at the others to put her—Remy—down. She sees and hears everything.

Then **nothing.**

Karma definitely has plans for her, alright.


	24. Chapter 24

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: A wee bit shorter chapter this time! Thanks for taking time out your day to leave a gift for me and thanks for your well wishes, compliments, and faith to keep up with this story, ShadowBroker11! I appreciate it tons! Hope everybody enjoys and has a lovely day! We're in the _last month_ of the year, make 2018 one to remember folks! Warm regards :)

* * *

It's another _exciting_ day in the med-bay.

Lexi takes increasingly longer—longing—looks at the cabinet that has her wine. She's definitely deserved it if she just makes it through today without killing anyone, intentional or not. Both her newest patients are knocked out, courtesy of the go-to cocktail for stubborn people who refuse to rest; she needs to run more tests and figure out how to best approach this. There's going to have to be a few calls to be made to consult with physiotherapists for what she has in mind; this is out of even her comfort zone—but she's confident she'll be able to learn on the spot.

Knocks alert her and she spins in her chair, smiling apologetically. "Ah, Pathfinder." When did she come in? "I didn't realize you were standing there. Were you waiting long?"

"Nah, just came in." Sara walks over to the exile's side. "How are they holding up?" She glances over at Lexi with a smirk. "And how are _you_ holding up?"

"I'm keeping them under until all tests are finished." Lexi turns back to her terminal, drumming her fingers along the table. "What you reported of Ms. Kedar though, and her worsening condition..." She frowns as her thoughts steer towards the one clear path a certain _someone else_ will not be pleased with.

But there's no choice.

"What are you thinking, Lexi? Will she be okay or not?"

"She will be." Lexi rises with a defeated sigh, crossing her arms as she saunters over to the other exile—the asari she suspects to be the one who melded with Remy. "But seizures will be the least of her worries if she doesn't rest whatsoever; stress may very well kill her, with too many new factors for her body to adjust to. She has to remain in a medically-induced coma until her brain has had proper and undisturbed time to heal."

Sara sucks in a sharp breath. "How long will it take?"

Both already know how a certain _someone else_ will take to this news.

"For the human brain, an average of 43 days. It may be less than that—perhaps a month—since she'll be asleep, allowing her brain to mend with only dream activity taxing it. I'll let Suvi know that, otherwise, it will take more than 100 days, knowing Remy will be engaged in complex mental activity—and stress, as recently proven."

Sara stares blankly. She deflates and rakes a hand through her hair, her shoulders caving in defeat. "I'll soften the blow for you and let Suvi know."

"That isn't necessary. I appreciate the gesture, but I'll handle it. She will have questions."

"And protests."

"Doctor's orders," Lexi states sternly, grabbing the railing of the asari exile's plinth to raise it. "It can override Pathfinder authority if need be; keep that in mind."

"Are you implying I don't listen to medical advice? I'm offended you'd even think and suggest it." Sara's flat tone and cheeky grin tempts a retort, but professionalism saves Lexi in time. The Pathfinder walks over to set up the railing on the other side of the bed, jerking her chin to the asari exile. "Find anything in _any_ medical record for her, by any chance?"

Lexi shakes her head. "SAM said everything's been wiped; there's no trace of any blood work or fingerprints. The records with her 'name' is a fake profile."

"Well, we found our hacker, at least." Sara's lips purse in a thin line. A thoughtful look crosses with pity, and she sighs as she heads for the exit. "Keep me updated."

"I will." Lexi notes how Sara lingers at the doorway. Something's amiss, but she knows better than to press; the young woman will just bury everything and hide behind a fake smile. If only it were plausible to relieve her of her duty, even for a week. "Let me know if there's anything I can assist you with, Pathfinder."

Sara casually salutes as she leaves.

No answer is her answer.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Leusinia. Elaaden. Kadara. Prodromos.

It's eenie meanie minie mo. Sara sits in front of her terminal in the privacy of her quarters, massaging her temples to ease her headache. She can only guess what's going on in the med-bay after bumping into Suvi, going so far to barrel down the ladders and eschewing all grace or care. Sara didn't need to say anything when they stared at each other. Her face revealed everything.

"Wish I took acting classes to get my act together," she sighs as she slumps on her desk. Too many decisions and not enough people she can delegate things to; or rather, people with the resources and tools at their hand, just like her. If it were up to her, Cora would get her own flipping ship and squad.

Just the thought—and reminder of how many glares her Second shot her during Remy's rescue—is enough to drain what little energy she has left. She moves to her bed, each step laborious. Beeps at her door promptly earn a groan. "SAM, tell whoever is at the door—"

 _"It is Doctor Anwar, Pathfinder."_

Fuck.

"Let her in." No doubt or second thoughts about it. Sara steels herself and fakes a reassuring smile; a little piece of her dies inside for it. Everything is utterly depleted the moment the doors open and reveal a harried Suvi, eyes sheen but features set in determination. "Hey... How are you...?" Sara knows it's a stupid question, but what else is she supposed to ask?

Lips thin. Suvi steps inside and clasps her hands together, disguising a deep breath with another step. Her voice—barely put together—trembles. "I wanted to thank you for everything you've done, Pathfinder."

"Thank me?" Sara's eyebrow arches, confused. "I didn't really do anything."

If anything, she's responsible for getting Remy in the mess she's in, rather than keeping her out of it.

A pang of guilt brews when Suvi blinks faster, staving off the tears. Her mouth opens. Clamps shut. When her face screws up, Sara closes the distance in a couple strides and envelops the quivering woman in an embrace. Hands cling and claw at her shoulders as Suvi hides her face in Sara's neck, desperate for comfort and the strength to hold on.

"Let it out," Sara encourages, rubbing soft circles along Suvi's back. "It's okay to be upset and frustrated; anyone would be, in your shoes. You're under no obligation—"

"This is all my fault," Suvi muffles her mumbles, her tears slicking Sara's neck, who stills. "If I never reacted the way I did, if I never..." Another deep, shaky, breath.

All of Sara is gone. No protests or wise words are coming to her. She ought to be saying that it's not Suvi's fault, that it's hers. They both know it. Everybody does. Her decisions—and the consequences of her decisions—rest on her shoulders, and her alone. Fatigue weighs down on her eyelids as if weights are actually attached to them. She buries herself in Suvi's hair and hugs tighter, the guilt growing and consuming, kicking herself over and over again. She's supposed to be comforting, not seeking comfort.

"Everything will be okay," she mutters, but can't even convince herself to believe it. "It's just a waiting game. The weeks will fly by before we know it, and Remy _will_ be okay."

Another life destroyed by her hands.

A life she was fully aware she had been in control of; and she dangled the meat right in front of the wolves, despite knowing of their nature.

What makes her different from any of the exiles? From the leaders on Nexus? Confidence plummets as introspection rips her apart, and soon, it's Suvi helping her hold on. Too much loss reaps hell on the mind; Sara never even bonded with Remy—yet she somehow still feels that way, thanks to Suvi's warm sincerity.

"It always feels like we're hanging on a thread," Suvi sighs. "How much longer until hope pulls us through? There's only so much you can do and be, Pathfinder."

"Be?" Sara echoes, frowning. "I'm searching for hope just like everybody else; I don't think I'm inspirational."

 _Comfort,_ Sara. Her team is looking up to her, and she's failing them at every turn, with every word. Each degrading jab chips her fortitude away. Her entire body sags and she reluctantly pulls away, smiling tiredly. "Sorry, Suvi. This isn't helping. You're welcome to stay and work here, if you don't mind me taking a quick nap."

Suvi nods, an apologetic look sweeping away the tears. It should be a genuine smile instead. "Of course I don't mind, I should be the one saying sorry for barging in and bothering you with things like this. I should be—"

"It's no bother," Sara turns and heads for her sweet, sweet home. Her legs nearly give out on her before she jumps and crashes into her pillows face first. Her muscles suddenly start aching, reminding her of their deprived relaxation time. She doesn't bother wiggling out her uniform or sneaking under the blanket, surrounding herself with her bountiful pillows; the right words finally slip out, and her own advice slowly sinks in for herself too. "We're our own worst critics, telling ourselves we should be this or that—never telling ourselves we should be accepting ourselves instead."

But is acceptance considered compliance? It's too easy to use it as an excuse to be lazy, or make flawed decisions—and she makes a _ton_ of those.

Is there such a thing as a flawless one?

It sinks in, just like the spot beside her. Sara turns her head, mouth still firmly glued to her pillow, and smiles lazily when Suvi makes herself comfortable as she rests a laptop on her thighs.

 _"Shall I play music, Pathfinder?"_ SAM chimes on the room's speakers, and Sara nods as enthusiastically as one can, sandwiched on the bed. The gentle chuckles beside her lift her spirits; they're _genuine,_ and that's all she could ever ask for. Instead of upbeat electronic or relaxing piano, SAM plays something from an entirely different ensemble—of fiddles? Did she have that in her storage?—that she doesn't recognize. It becomes clear _who_ SAM is playing for as soon as a bagpipe joins the fiddles.

"Oh, SAM," Suvi laughs heartily, "thank you. You're so thoughtful."

 _"I have been learning from you."_

"Hey, what about me?" Sara whines sullenly, lifting her head and glaring at the ceiling. "I'm thoughtful too!"

 _"Thoughtful: absorbed in or involving thought. Or, showing consideration for the needs of other people. Data states you are the former definition."_

Only the former?!

"What about the latter?" Sara holds her breath, ignoring the knowing smirk growing beside her, and narrows her eyes when the AI doesn't answer. "SAM..."

 _"One moment, I am processing scarce statistics to retrieve old probabilities of the latter."_

"What?! Come on, SAM! I can be thoughtful; I'm thoughtful as fuck! I'm so thoughtful, in fact, that I bet my name's the third definition of one who's thoughtful!" Sara unleashes a flurry of wailing arms against her poor pillows, sulking—or trying to—when Suvi's laughter fills the room. If this is the AI's attempt at charades for the sake of cheering somebody else up, then she's clearly underestimated just how much he is observing and learning from her.

Which, by the way, is _totally_ the second definition of thoughtfulness.

...This may have plucked a sore nerve.

 _"The third definition is: showing careful consideration or attention."_

"Fine, fourth! And the third is me, too."

There's a slight pause, Sara knows it. She's so fucking in tune with this AI that there is just no other explanation for it. She's willing to bet it's a pause—and not just him 'processing' bullshit statistics. She smiles, pleased, when he finally agrees. _"Of course, Pathfinder. You are correct."_

"That's what I thought."

 _"For 6.2% of 1267 recorded instances, which comes to 78.554 times where you may have been considered thoughtful. However, this data may not be accurate, as there may be errors in the formula."_

"May have," Sara scoffs, "and not even 80?! There are errors in the formula, alright!" She throws a pillow at the ceiling. "I hate you SAM!"

 _"I am aware. You have stated this 361 times since we have begun working together."_

He is **so** making all these numbers up. He has to be.

"My, what an abusive relationship, Pathfinder." Suvi quips, smiling without the faintest hint of remorse.

And laughs when another pillow is launched at her face.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Kadara still isn't on board with the Initiative.

What's new.

Life is great.

Sara groans and musses up her hair in frustration, exiting her emails and heading for the bridge. "At least the ban is lifted and I can enter the port..." The message she just read is conflicting, though, with a healthy dose of threats. "But Sloane's made it clear she still hates my guts, so there's no use sticking around if we aren't wanted. Just gonna ask for another fight, then. We'll come back later after things have settled." She buckles under the weight of Kallo's stare, even if he isn't judging, but his unconditional loyalty adds to the heavy luggage of her failures.

It's not like anybody has a choice _but_ to follow her, if she's the only Pathfinder.

"Where are we heading next then, Pathfinder? Did you want to reroute to Elaaden?"

"No." She chews her lip, studying the map, then looks at her pilot. "Set the coordinates for Ark Leusinia. The Initiative needs more Pathfinders; I can't turn every planet around and fix every single problem by myself." Sara touches her panel to sync with her implants, watching the interface light up before her as Kallo begins to take off—without any protest whatsoever.

Yesterday, she was just complaining about meeting so much resistance everywhere. Why the heck is she complaining about the opposite now? Will she ever make up her mind?

Glancing at the empty chair to her left, Sara frowns. She understands if her science officer needs time off... But Suvi's _already_ taken an immense amount of time off. Hopefully she'll bounce back in a couple of days once Lexi reassures her that time is all Remy needs; at least Sara has time now too to investigate both exiles on her ship, and without pressure or emotional baggage.

Hopefully Drack will behave himself and not try to kill either exile.

Coordinates illuminate with a predicted ETA of 7 hours. Sara smiles wryly. "Somewhere on this ship, someone who's subscribed to this is doing a dance."

"What was that, Pathfinder? I didn't catch it."

"Just being crazy and talking to myself, Kallo," she waves dismissively, leaving the bridge. "Don't worry about it. Let me know when ETA's down to 2 hours."

"Alright."

What to do, what to do. It's tempting to go over to the bio-lab and see Cora's happy dance—if only she actually would do one. Sara stops by the research center and checks for the strike teams' reports, trying to be mindful of the soldiers on the other side of this screen. Some days it's terrifyingly easy to forget, when all she has to do is press a button to send them off—and send them off to their potential graves.

"Just full of sunshine today." she mutters under her breath, honing her focus on the mission objectives on the screen, choosing which team's skill set fits it best.

Always tactics and strategies. When will she get proper time to rest? She feels like she's making more and more mistakes lately; hopefully another Pathfinder will be enough to tip the odds stacked against them. Energy is drained already just from decision-making, and Sara rakes a hand through her hair as she sighs wistfully, staring at the door to the tech lab. She hasn't chatted with Jaal in a while—hadn't ever bothered to check on him, or even _thank_ him, after he found the angaran children a home.

All well and good, but he'll know the real reason why she's there—to take weapons apart with him. Excitement thrums just thinking about what she'll get to learn today, but she plays it cool as she heads over and hovers her omni-tool over the door to open it. "Hey Jaal! Are you free..." She blinks. "Right..." She blinks again. "Peebee?"

They stand, staring, frozen in place. _Oh shit_ is plainly written all over Peebee's face. In all fairness, it's probably the same with Sara.

"What was I gonna say?" she blurts, looking to Jaal for help. Who's not even here. Why isn't he here? He should be. It's **very** unreasonable for him not to be confined to only one space on this ship. They are going to have a talk about this, and they are going to establish boundaries and restrict his freedoms for her conveniences and—

"Fuck my life?" Peebee offers with a rueful smile. It doesn't belong. Well, it does, as it should, but it doesn't belong. Or it shouldn't. _  
_

This is hurting her brain.

"Yeah, that..." Sara mumbles as she steps inside, closing the door. Her thoughts scream _run,_ her feelings shout _stay._ She inputs a code in her omni-tool to lock the door behind her and crosses her arms, determined to finally get to the bottom of this. "We have 5 hours to figure out what this is between us, Peebee."

"Uh, and we're gonna start now?"

Sara's face falls flat. "Yes."

"Okay, but, can I crack this first?" Peebee gestures to a terminal, and Sara swallows the hurtful sting when curiosity wins. She groans and caves, walking over.

"What's on there? Can I help?"

"Can you hack?"

"SAM can." Sara casts a sideways glance when Peebee brings up encrypted files on the screen. "Are you gonna answer what this is, or is it better if I don't know?"

"Dunno what it is, but it's Remnant's— _Remedy,_ not the killer bots." Peebee shrugs. "Uploaded all these files to my omni-tool when we searched the house and found out those defenses have video feed." She bumps shoulders, her voice softening uncharacteristically. "Wiped everything from her system after that."

" _Wiped_ it? Why?" No answer, not at first. Sara's brows furrow as she frowns. She shakes her head and looks up at the ceiling. "SAM, anything you can do about this?"

 _"One moment, Pathfinder."_

"So?" Sara refuses to be lenient this time, and turns to face Peebee. "Why did you wipe them?"

 _"Files unlocked."_

Videos upon videos unfold on the screen, each dated by day. Handy. "SAM, find the security feed of the same day the angaran parents were pronounced deceased."

 _"Yes, Pathfinder."_

It all boils down to one file. Peebee shifts nervously and catches Sara's hand before she plays it. "I wiped them because... Because if she's guilty, if she killed them..."

"Then you would be the only one who'd know." Sara narrows her eyes. "You're _really_ willing to hide evidence of a murderer just because you like her?"

Olive orbs snap up, igniting with hurt and anger. "Hey! It's in the past, and she was taking care of those kids! Remnant's a _good guy,_ Ryder!"

"Are you willing to bet the safety of the crew—of Suvi—on that? Exiles are exiles. We have another on this ship that's a known hacker and has gone to great lengths to cover her tracks. If they were 'good guys'," she air-quotes with her fingers, "then why are they trying so hard to hide? Seems to me they know they're guilty."

"Newsflash, Ryder: lots of people think they're guilty when they're not."

 _"Ms. Kedar did not kill the angarans."_

Both of them freeze. Sara ignores the asari's cheer and fist pump. "So who did? Her turret—"

 _"It appears she did not check these logs. The video feed captures a cloaked soldier_ _—utilizing outcast armaments_ _—in the vicinity of Ms. Kedar's turret; presumably hacked, based on the sudden change of the turret's behavior, as it ceased firing at the outcasts and targeted the angarans instead. Ms. Kedar was not able to reprogram the turret in time."  
_

"Outcasts ambushed their home? Why?" The gears turn, and remorse digs deeper. "Wait so... Then she thinks it was her, when it wasn't...? And she tried to save them by taking them to Dr. Nakamoto's clinic, and couldn't. Too late." A lump grows in Sara's throat, and pride demands to defend itself when Peebee casts an accusatory look. A memory flashes by of Suvi blaming _herself;_ not one speck of guilt ever belonged to her, and now there's proof. It's all Sara's fault. She reluctantly swallows that pride, bowing her head and closing her eyes as a remorseful whisper slips past her lips.

" _Fuck._ "


	25. Chapter 25

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: The angst is dialed up to "rip your soul out" edition this chapter. I'd like to promise and say this will be the worst it gets, but the future's unpredictable. However, it finally ties the bow on Remy's past. Thanks again ShadowBroker11, and my recovery is going well! Hope to churn out more chapters to get to our favorite parts already. Warm regards!

Warning: This chapter's theme may disturb some readers. Depression, self-harm and suicide is implied, but not discussed in detail. Hang in there.

* * *

"You should be studying... They're not going to reschedule it for you again; you _know_ they don't care. Just pass the exam and be done with it." Remedy whispers hoarsely, but can't find the strength to let go of Sophie's hand. The free spirit is down in the dumps—Remedy hates it, hates how helpless she is in the war Sophie is waging upon herself. None of this is her fault. Why do her feelings insist it is?

"What's the point if we won't be together?" The mumble buzzes against Remedy's neck, where Sophie's found her new home. This hospital bed's too tiny for both of them. Then again, any bed is too tiny with a woman capable of sprawling out and hog a bloody king size for herself.

"We will be. I'll just be a little slow. You can get a head start for me; get hired, then recommend me. We'll be back to driving each other crazy in no time."

"It won't be the same if you're not there, possum. I... Can't be alone. I'll get stupid ideas again."

Remedy freezes. "You better not." She hugs tighter. "You're stronger than this. Fight it. You won't be alone for long. I start training with the physios next week, and then once I prove the doctors I can do it and I'm strong enough for it, they'll fit me with prosthetics and we'll go from there. You'll be alone for _maybe_ a month at best; the weeks will fly by before we know it. I'll be home in no time."

Silence reigns down on them, weighing on the air. It's hard to _breathe._ Sophie shifts, but remains mindful her legs are nowhere near what's left of Remedy's. This caution is starting to get annoying—though not entirely unwelcome. It's just not _Sophie_ to be so careful, though; suppose Remedy can understand her girlfriend's plight. She wouldn't be gung-ho about leaving Sophie behind either. Especially in a hospital. Just thinking about Sophie's _trip_ here is enough to churn bile and anxiety.

"Help me study in the bloody muddy ruddy, buddy?"

Tension blown away. Remedy will hold on to whatever distraction comes their way, desperate to protect Sophie from herself. Remedy chuckles and squeezes her girlfriend's hand. The smile against her neck—and horrible rhyming scheme—helps make the demons in her mind disappear. Hopefully for Sophie too. "Did you bring my notes?"

"No," Sophie scoffs, "I got more important things to bring." A pause. When the smile grows, Remedy rolls her eyes, knowing what's coming. " _Myself._ You're welcome."

"Mm-mm~ thank you. What would I ever do without you?" Remedy turns her head and kisses the top of Sophie's, staying to breathe warmth into her, squeezing the hand awkwardly sandwiched between them. She catches on when the silence stretches between them, when there should be witty answers left and right. "It was an accident." she sighs, pulling her hand away to be able to hug Sophie closer. "You didn't know."

"But if I didn't take you to that spot..." The hoarse croak drives a knife into Remedy's gut, and the breaking voice breaks her. "If I stopped bein' stupid and just studied at home..."

"You're not stupid. _You didn't know,_ Soph—I wouldn't either."

"Still lettin' you down now, too." And Remedy's point has been totally ignored. "I should be the one taking care of you, makin' you smile. Not the other way around."

"It's not too late to turn around." Remedy hopes to derail from this topic completely. If the guilt won't piss off, then it'll just have to be ignored. She has no other ideas of what to do. "And you've never let me down." She hugs tighter when something wet touches her neck, and she sighs, smiling to hide the pain. "Jesus, are you—of all people— _crying?_ It's the end of the world for sure."

"Shut it. I'm not always an airhead, Rem." Sophie sniffles, then laughs weakly. She lifts her head and shifts up to meet Remedy's lips; salt laces the kiss, and Remedy frames Sophie's jaw, wiping the tears away as they hit her thumbs. There's too many of them.

It's time for the last resort.

Slipping a hand behind Sophie's neck, Remedy pulls roughly, her other hand slipping under her girlfriend's shirt. Sophie stops it and breaks the kiss, eyes wide, bewildered. "What are you doing?" she hisses quietly, stealing a quick glance at the door. "Th'nurse can walk in any moment, Rem." She pauses, and then snaps back to Remedy. "Wait... _You_ wanna try? You're not gonna run away?"

Remedy smirks. "I kinda can't, love."

-—-—-—-—-—-

It's back to watching monitors and listening to beeps all over again.

Though Suvi doesn't quite understand what all the waves mean, she's learned what readings typically look like when Remy's dreaming. Hopefully they're good dreams, and not panic attacks like before. The heart monitor's readings are worrisome sometimes; Suvi holds the engineer's hand whenever the heart rate and blood pressure spikes too high, noticing it's the surefire way to calm Remy.

What a terrifying ordeal, to be trapped in limbo the way she is. Hopefully she's not _aware_ of it either.

This is going to be a very long month.

Suvi waits until the readings even out before she returns to working from her laptop, distracting herself with data and reports. Pain worms in her heart every time she takes the hoodie string of Remy's sweater to nibble on.

" _Fuck..._ "

Suvi's head snaps up. She twists in her chair to look behind her, heart thundering to her throat—the other exile is awake. Is she supposed to be? Without thinking, Suvi turns her omni-tool on to connect to Lexi. Invisible pressure surrounds her and locks her hands in mid-air.

"No... Sudden... Moves..." Comes the laborious warning, then a groan. "Fuck, my head is killin' me... What the hell did you assholes do to me? 'Required' brain surgery like the whelp?"

"Whelp?" Suvi croaks, fear tightening her throat. She swallows thickly, trying to maintain her composure; she needs to think clearly if she wants to get out of this. One wrong word, and she risks angering an exile that's sure to harbor just as much—if not more—resentment for anything 'Nexus', just like how Remy was.

"The hothead you're guarding." Things crash, but Suvi isn't able to turn around to see. Biotics? She tries to look at the ceiling, desperate to hear SAM—he has to be monitoring right? A blue hand comes up in her peripheral vision and she stiffens, quivering in her seat when the intimidating presence sluggishly lumbers beside her, gripping Remy's railings. A loud clack cuts through the stale silence. "What are you doing to her?" Another clack. The railings refuse to move back down. "Wake her up." The asari's feral glare screams murderous intent, and Suvi trembles when the face comes mere inches away from her. "No more fucked up experiments, or I'll fuck you up."

"N-no experiments," Suvi stammers, "she needs to rest to heal. Waking her up will hurt her an—"

"Bullshit!" The laptop is stolen and thrown at the wall, shattering into pieces. Suvi's lifted right out of her seat by the collar, yelping when she's jammed against the railings. "Listen _very_ carefully. I'll kill you if you don't, Nexus. I've killed a whole lot more for a whole lot less. Wake her up, **now.** "

"I don't know how!" Suvi snaps, "I'm not a doctor!"

Doors slide open, revealing Peebee and Cora in front of Lexi, their weapons and hands out. The asari exile is apprehended before she has a chance to react, forced to let Suvi go when she's pulled away by the team's biotics. "Let me go! Let Remy go! We're not your fuckin' toys, Nexus!"

Lexi calmly walks up with a syringe in hand, and the asari exile's banshee screams echo in the med-bay, making everybody cringe as a hail of threats flood the room. As soon as the needle pricks the exile's neck, it's seconds before she passes out, slumping. Cora quietly carries her back to the bed and Peebee helps Suvi up. "Are you alright?"

Still shaking, but alive. "I will be." She holds on to Peebee's arm for support. Her legs feel like they're jelly, about to give out at any moment. Peebee helps her sit on the chair before adrenaline and strength disappears. The asari kneels, holding Suvi's knees, a genuinely worried look in her eyes—the complete opposite to the vicious _promise_ the asari exile had. Suvi buries her face in her hands and takes a deep breath. She can't stop shaking. "T-thank you... If you hadn't come—"

"Don't think 'bout it, Suvi, and don't mention it. Want me to get you a drink?"

"Yes, please, if you don't mind." She feels guilty asking for more, but maybe it'll help her calm down. She lifts her head to steal a quick peek—to make sure the exile is actually asleep this time. A shudder rolls through her when her gaze roves over the pieces of her laptop; at least it wasn't her personal one. She accepts the mug Peebee offers her and damn near chugs all the water in one go, grabbing and holding the reassuring hand that squeezes her shoulder. "Thanks, Peebee."

"Why did this happen, Lexi? Weren't you keeping her under?" Cora asks, locking the exile's railings up.

"It seems her metabolism is capable of breaking down the medication much more quickly and efficiently." Lexi accesses her terminal, and a moment later, glass panes rise up and lock the plinth, like an incubator. "I'll administer a stronger dosage, and this should keep her contained if she still wakes up."

Cora frowns and casts Suvi a worried look. "I'll stand guard here, just in case."

"And bore her to death instead?" Peebee retorts, waving off Cora's glare. "I got this. Someone needs to _guard,_ not make lovey-dovey looks at all asari."

"You—"

"This is not the time to argue," Lexi interjects firmly, taking off her gloves as she comes over to Suvi, checking her skin temperature. Lexi sighs. "I know you're going to stay here even if I say you shouldn't... But you need to leave for a few minutes. Get your bearings, then come back so we can talk this through. Doctor's orders."

"I-I'm fine, Lexi." Not yet, though. "I will be fine," Suvi insists even with everybody's disbelieving look, and she solders her gaze on Remy. "I need to stay."

"You need to rest. Especially now. You're in shock, Suvi."

Is she? She's just shaking, but she's fine.

"C'mon," Peebee takes the mug away, and pulls Suvi's hands to force her up into standing. "Even I know y'gotta get out and breathe for a bit. You'll drive yourself nuts if ya coop yourself up in here forever." Peebee tugs harder and drags her out the med-bay. "We'll get you a new computer first, then... I dunno. Let's chill in my room. I got questions. Maybe you got answers?"

"Questions...?" Suvi echoes hollowly; her brain is still scrambling to catch up. Everything is moving too fast to process.

It dawns, realization crashing down like a sack of bricks.

She was almost killed. If that exile just had a few more seconds, and if the team hadn't arrived, and—

"Peebee... I was almost _killed._ I—oh god..."

Peebee looks back at her, visible concern marring her youthful features. She closes the distance and catches Suvi when her legs give out from under her. Weight crushes her chest, making it almost impossible to breathe. She holds on to Peebee for her dear life, choking on her own tears when they slam her out of nowhere. Emotion crashes down like tidal waves, one after another, each sweeping her away in another powerful current, draining what little strength she no longer has left. Quiet cusses and nervous pats—her only source of comfort.

"I wish Remy was here," she chokes out, hiccuping and gulping for air between cries.

"I wish she was too," Peebee blurts. Awkward silence falls. Peebee gives another nervous pat. "This is really uncomfortable. Cheer up. Like right now. _Please?_ " The desperate plea pulls a weak laugh out of Suvi—and she didn't think it possible. She appreciates the woman trying to comfort her, however horrible.

It's better than nothing at all.

"Everything's gonna be okay, Suvi. Promise. Oh, and before I forget, I got good news too. Should cheer you up." Can she slow down? Everything's spinning still. "Ready?"

Good news? Now? It's not that Suvi doesn't believe Peebee—though she is slightly doubting _who_ this news is good for—but now... Is a tricky time. She yelps when she's suddenly pulled along again, dragged to the ladders. Peebee looks at them, then at her. "Right, shaking like a leaf, still. You'll just fall on your ass and be the next one in med-bay with her head split open." _Erm..._ "Long way, then!"

"Wait, the good news?"

"What? Oh, right." She forgot already? "It's about those angarans." Peebee beams a bright smile—reassuring, comforting, and inspiring hope. "Got proof that it wasn't Remnant's fault; video feed from her defenses. Someone hacked her turret." Her smile grows into a proud grin. "She's innocent." A dark look sweeps over her eyes for a fleeting second, confusing Suvi. "And the Pathfinder knows."

"Remy's... Innocent?" The puzzle jams together. "She didn't kill them?"

"Nope! She just thinks she did. Good news, right?"

Stunned, Suvi stares. Relief floods in and overpowers everything else.

Her legs give out on her again.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Please, Pathfinder Ryder, think of the political ramifications of having exiles aboard your ship! Have you at least input necessary security measures, or put them under observation? I shudder to think what they might do if they have access to sensitive information."

Access to sensitive information. What an intriguing point, bringing up a most thought-provoking question: how did Addison acquire this information?

"Director Addison"—Sara replies tiredly and crosses her arms—"with all due respect, the Initiative needs to work on amending relationships because the exiles _are_ a part of the Initiative. All of us came here to this galaxy with like-minded hopes and dreams, and I'm not going to give up on them."

This merry-go-round needs to end soon. Her omni-tool's been pinged countless times through this meeting, and SAM's warned on their private channel that there is an emergency in med-bay. What isn't a fucking emergency? Everything is. She honestly can't wait to get another Pathfinder on board; hopefully they'll possess the experience she certainly doesn't have.

"If you insist on stirring trouble, then fine." Politicians enjoy testing the limits of Sara's patience. "What is the status on Kadara?"

"It's... Not ready for an outpost yet, but I'm working on it." Sara pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs, already exhausted with knowing there's a coming argument. As usual. "Can we talk about this another time? I have to get ready for my next mission. We're investigating a lead and hoping to bring Ark Leusinia home; focus on that if you've run out of colonial affairs to bitch about."

Addison's face screws up, clearly offended, though the hologram projection just makes it look more humorous than threatening. Sara shrugs, not at all apologetic for her callous remark—however uncalled for. She's lost all patience and all her energy trying to please everybody. She's just tired. "I'll take that as a yes. I'll call you when I want to call you." Which will be never. "Pathfinder out." Her hand rushes to the button to cut the link before Addison has a chance to protest.

Footsteps and faint voices catch her attention. She heads over to the railing, catching glimpse of Peebee and Suvi walking down to the bridge. Hope blooms in Sara's chest and she nearly trips on her own feet as she rushes down. "Hey, Suvi! Feeling be—" Suvi turns. She's got no color in her face, and her eyes are bloodshot. "—tter...?"

Peebee's face screams the answer: _definitely fucking not._ Her tone screams the rest. "Where were you? I was pinging you this whole time."

"I was stuck in a meeting with Addison." Something inside of Sara jumps out in defense when Peebee gives her a dirty look, but Suvi's weak—and _definitely_ fake—smile begs for peace and respite. "What happened? SAM told me there was an emergency in the med-bay."

"Yeah~ and you'd think that'd be more important than a pointless meeting, but noooo..." The snide drawl goes unpunished, no matter how dearly Sara wants otherwise.

She's _earned_ this flak.

"Suvi?" The poor woman looks like she's at a loss, other than clearly wanting to be anywhere but between them. Her mouth opens, closes, opens, closes. Conflicted, guilt-ridden—it's plain as day, and Sara doesn't believe her when she turns and walks to the bridge alone.

"Everything is alright. Nothing happened. I'm returning to my station now, Pathfinder."

"What?" Peebee blurts, confused. "But—"

Sara waves her hand to get the asari's attention and shakes her head. "Alright. The Leusinia's in 3 hours. I need you to dig up everything you can about the Ark."

"Yes, Pathfinder." The meek exit says it all, as Suvi slips away without another look or word.

When the bridge's doors slide shut, Peebee stomps up to Sara and jabs a finger in her chest. "What the hell was that, Ryder? You know she's—"

"She needs to work."

"SAM can give you everything you just asked her for."

"Yes, yes he can. He can also tell me what happened in the med-bay, but you're going to do that instead." Sara jerks her head to the ladders. "My quarters. Let's go."

"Piss off, Ryder. You can't order me around like her, I—"

"Need a drink." Sara struggles to maintain her poise, walking past Peebee with her head held high and her decision firm. "I'm not ordering her around; she needs a distraction and data does that best. I made a mistake with Remy, yeah, but I'm not like that with this team. It may come as a surprise to you, but I actually care for everyone here." She waits by the ladder and steels herself as she turns to look at Peebee. "This thing between us, where you're always assuming the worst and treating me like the bad guy? It needs to stop. It really does."

Without thinking, the words slip out as she starts climbing down the ladder.

"'Cause I'm not your ex-girlfriend."

...And she wishes she had a gun to shoot her damn mouth off.

It comes as no surprise when Peebee lashes out with seething venom. "You are **now**."

Sara sighs as the boots overhead stomps to the bridge. She reluctantly climbs back up the ladder to follow Peebee, maybe somehow salvage this new mess she's created. She ignores Suvi and Kallo's confused looks as she makes a beeline for Peebee's room, rushing inside just in time before the doors are locked.

Or maybe just in time to be flattened against them as an invisible force pins her to the door, with a furious asari snarling in her face. "I hate you. You're just like her—acting all high and mighty. Someone needs to take you down a notch."

"That someone's always been you."

"Shut up!" Peebee twists Sara's collar around her fist, olive orbs sheen with rage. Her voice cracks. "I _hate_ you!"

"I know." Sara smiles sadly, well aware that they're right back to where they started. Again. "And for what little it's worth, I'm sorry for what I said—for what I did. But you have to understand, Peebee... I'm hurting too. It hurts every time you think the worst of me. It hurts every time you shut me out. Everything about you scares the crap out of me, and I still want to get closer to you. You're the only one that helps me keep my mind off the bullshit and stay focused on what really matters."

Peebee narrows her eyes. At least she isn't exploding or kicking Sara out. The invisible force dissipates, and her grip eases. "Like what?"

" _You,_ " Sara urges vehemently, grabbing Peebee's hands as she rolls her eyes, turning away. "Give me a chance, Peebee. I'm not perfect. I don't make the best decisions. I don't do what I do for the fun of it—hell, there is no fun in the fight for survival. But somehow, despite everything thrown at us, you still manage to stay... _You._ You make it all fun; the fights, the discoveries, everything. Even when you drive me crazy, it's fun."

"If you find that fun, then you _are_ crazy."

"I crossed that line a long time ago," Sara smirks, "when I fell in love with a woman who 'hates' me."

Peebee stiffens. She immediately pulls away, staring blankly, dumbfounded. Then she scoffs and disappears into the escape pod. Sara doesn't hesitate to follow her inside, but as she starts climbing in, she's tugged roughly and shoved on the mattress. Familiar weight settles on her thighs. Hands rest on her chest. A fire ignites in the pits of her belly when Peebee lowers, their lips brushing, hesitating.

"Please," Sara whispers, "give me a chance. I'm not _her._ " She blindly reaches, sliding her hands up to rest on Peebee's hips. "I can prove it. There's one difference between me and her."

"Oh yeah?" Peebee rises, lips set in a skeptical frown. "And what's that?"

Sara bumps up her hips and grabs Peebee's elbow, rolling them until she comes out on top. She steals the asari's lips and kisses as if it's her last. Her hand wanders lower, to the apex of Peebee's legs. "Because, unlike her..." Sara whispers, emphasizing her point with an affectionate nip.

"...I actually _make love_ to you."

-—-—-—-—-—-

"I can't believe that happened," Sophie sighs dejectedly. "I was _s_ _o_ close too."

"Well, you did warn me," Remedy quips, just as disappointed as her girlfriend. The first time Remedy finally has the courage to pay back the favor, and... "Damn nurse."

"I can't believe y'needed to lose your legs to finally try too," Sophie grumbles, and the harsh reminder nearly tears Remedy back apart. "Why was it so scary to you anyways?" She brings their blanket higher and rolls up on her elbow, giving a chaste kiss before nuzzling against Remedy's neck again. "Y'did bloody grand; picked up real quick what I like."

"Hard not to when you're literally telling me 'yes! I like that'," Remedy teases, grinning when she feels lips curl into a smile against her jawline. "It's... Not touching you that's scary. It's disappointing you that terrifies me. Don't gotta worry now since that nurse took the heat for me." She chuckles when Sophie's head shoots up in a fury, mouth agape in disbelief.

"Me? Disappointed? If anything I'm the disappointment, Rem. Never the disappointed."

"You're not the disappointment either," Remedy sighs, rolling her eyes. She frowns when her girlfriend hides against her neck again. "Sophie..."

"I let you down and fucked up your life, Rem. _Twice_ over now." This again. It's still haunting her, tearing her up. Her mind is her worst enemy.

"You did nothing of the sort. Not once."

How many times are they going to argue about this though? What is it going to take to convince Sophie that it isn't her fault? If she starts hurting herself _again..._

Light blinds Remy. She raises her arm to cover her eyes, jumping, yelping, startled by a loud bang and a muzzle flash. Her ears are ringing, everything is muted. Disoriented, she tumbles out of her chair, feet taking her down the hallway. She inputs a code-lock and traps the children in their room.

Instinct takes over fear when she turns and sees an unknown barreling inside the house—a hazy red, hobble-cobbled gear. Outcasts. Why are they here? Her implants adjust to protect it from the series of muzzle flashes coming from the soldier, cussing and panicking when whoever he's shooting at won't go down.

Remy smirks. "That'll be Tafris." She rushes into the storage room to collect her spare turret and hops on her hoverboard, and heads out into the hallway, tapping the kids' door when she hears them banging on the other side. "Stay quiet like we're playing hide and seek, yalaon will be back for you soon."

"Paavoa vesagara, allow me to greet you personally!" A hearty laugh—from the only maniac who would be laughing in a fucking ambush—steels her fraying nerves. Tafris charges into the house, bullets absorbed by his shields. He continuously fires outside while one hand shoots out and catches the soldier's throat before he dodges in time, and his screams envelope the house when electricity discharges from Tafris.

"Tafris, where's Inva?!"

Explosions crackle outside, and through the windows, she witnesses a cliff crumble beneath a row of outcast snipers.

"There's your answer," Tafris booms, cackling the entire time. Remy refuses to ask about their past; she's positive their stories will haunt her and scare her _nightmares_ away. "Set your turrets up, ongaan. Program them to prioritize shuttles." He tosses the dead soldier aside like a ragdoll, approaching her with a warm smile. She will never understand how anyone is capable of that. Remy flinches when he squeezes her shoulder, his tall stature capable of meeting her eyes, even with her on her board. "Make sure the house stays safe and we will take care of the rest. Can you do that? I have enough energy to generate one last field to protect you," he smirks as he playfully swats her ponytail, "as long as you do not mind this floating."

"Y-yeah, I can do that." No she can't. She's heading out into a battlefield. She's no soldier; she can work under pressure, but not _live fire._ Why the hell are the outcasts here, anyways? How did they find them? Was she followed here? When and where did they start following, though? The dead drop prize from the poker game? It's a dead drop, alright.

Good god... It's because of _her_ they're here, aren't they?

Every question has her losing her nerve, until Tafris' playfulness dissipates in favor of a warm calm. "We can do this, ongaan. I promise I will keep you safe. Family is the strongest weapon."

Family is the strongest weapon, alright.

Deep blue blood covers her hands. She tries to pack the gaping hole with any clothing she can, the tears streaking down her face blurring the world. How did this happen? Why? She was sure she assembled and programmed the turret correctly. She _knew_ she should've synced it with her implants, to exact precise control over targeting. This is her fault. She was just one bloody second too slow from reprogramming it. They're going to die because of her, because of her fear, because she couldn't keep her fucking cool for at least one god damn second.

"I'm so sorry, Tafris," she repeats over and over and fucking _over_ again, his warm blood replacing the warm smile. There's too much blood. She needs to get them to the clinic. She scans the battlefield of dead outcasts, her gaze soldering to the shuttle. "There! I-I can fly you, I just..." She tries to drag him, breathing apologies when Tafris grunts and _whimpers_ in agony. He's too heavy.

Inva raises a gun at her. Her eyes widen, and she holds out her hands in surrender. "P-please... Inva, I didn't mean—" she yelps when the gunshot rips through the air. Something thuds behind Remy, and she whips around to see. Another outcast.

"The children," Inva wheezes, trying to maintain pressure on her own wound. "I will kill you if you don't keep them safe."

Remy crawls over on her hands and knees, every part of her shaking as she tries to help Inva. Her hands are slapped away and she looks up, shuddering at the fierce eyes, glassy with pain. "I will, I promise I will, but—" she looks back at the shuttle, then at Inva. "I'll be right back, I'm going to fly it over here and take you both to the clinic."

"N-no, we will not survive this..." Tafris groans, hand flopping uselessly. Remy scrambles over to his side again, trying to stop the bleeding. The soil's damp. He's already lost too much. His lips quiver, struggling to smile weakly. This bloody fool is still trying to comfort her; it's just hurting her more, the selfish asshole. She catches his hand as it nuzzles against her cheek, tears choking her protests off. "We will be reunited one day." Each breath is sticky; it hurts him just to talk. Noble, selfless, fool. "We are at peace with death, a _new beginning._ " It's a new end. She's going to be left behind, all alone, all over again. "It is coming. You know this."

"No I don't!" she hisses, clambering to her feet. "I'm not gonna give up, and I'm not letting you give up!" It takes a moment for her legs to _listen,_ and she takes off sprinting for the shuttle. Every second counts. She can do this. She will do this. She's no soldier, but she can pilot a shuttle like the best of them. She knows she can.

She _has_ to.

It's not enough that she's taking their lives. She's taking loving parents dedicated to do whatever it takes—who sacrificed everything, and accepted her and taught her and treated her as one of their _own_ —away from kids that have been forced to grow up on this cruel planet. It's not enough that Kadara's stolen their innocence.

It has to take family away—beautifully revered by all angara—too.

Agony cuts down to the bone, the hair on her nape standing as Tafris' and Inva's screams fill the air. They deserve dignity and grace and a final goodbye with their children, but Remy's robbing them even that. She's putting them through even more pain in their last moments.

No. Not last moments. She refuses to accept this as the last.

...Until Nakamota boards the shuttle, looking at the bodies crudely hoisted on there. One shake of the head is all it takes to make her fall apart. Whatever he's saying bleeds out to white noise, but she hears one damning part loud and clear.

"Time of death—"

Remy screams her throat raw; her voice dies. The blue blood on her hands mixes with red when fists beat the shuttle's controls, breaking skin, until Nakamoto stops her.

Guilt has sunken it's claws into her soul. Just like Sophie. Remy promised herself she would never be like that, though. She has the kids. She has a promise. She has _anger._ She's going to take down the Nexus for destroying what little was left of her, for taking her hope and laughing at her for ever believing in a fresh start to begin with. It would just have to be enough to keep her breathing for another day, even if she doesn't want to anymore.

God, what a dead life this is...

Every time she looks at the kids, accepts their hugs, another piece of her dies inside. She doesn't deserve them and she selfishly hoards them anyways, desperate for redemption. She doesn't have the heart to tell them the truth of what she did. It's disgusting how badly she wants to be their hero—just like how their parents were for her.

Every time she locks herself in her room, closes her eyes, another piece of her dies with every memory that plays on repeat. It's the nightmare that never goes away upon waking. Are these the demons that tormented Sophie? It's a waiting game, an eternal internal struggle. The light can only burn for so long before the darkness extinguishes it and taints and _wins._ There's no fighting this; how naive it was to tell Sophie that. Now all Remy wants is to join her.

Lost in the sea that brought them together.


	26. Chapter 26

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: Some light NSFW a few times this chapter. I don't know if that should be considered a warning or not lol. Hope everybody enjoys this interlude :) Also, because I am updating under 24 hours, fanfiction will not refresh the counter. _DON'T SKIP CHAPTER 25 BY ACCIDENT!_ 25 and 26 are both new updates today. Warm regards, and have a lovely weekend everyone!

* * *

Ragged breaths fill the escape pod. Sweat smears and makes a mess of her eyeblack, but she can't find it in her to care. Her arm lazily flops across her eyes, chest heaving, the cool air making goosebumps break out all over her skin. Teeth bite and tug at her lip affectionately, playfully, as hands—who've traced and memorized every curve—dance along the planes of her stomach.

"Ryder..." she sighs, shuddering when kisses trail down to her collarbone, between her breasts, and pay loving attention to her navel. A lone finger enters her again, curling and pulling. It honestly _aches_ to be touched now. "I'm sore, gimme a break." The finger stills for a brief moment, and she groans when Sara thrusts anyways. "So selfish..."

"We have an hour until I have to get ready for the Leusinia." Ugh, why'd she have to ruin the mood? "I intend to exhaust you— _thoroughly_ —before I leave."

"Do I have to come?"

"Yes. And I'll make sure of it."

...Something stinks. Peebee uncovers her eyes and looks down, ignoring the spark that surges down to her belly as she watches Sara go down on her. She bites her lips and flops back down, defeated by gentle movements as a tongue soothes the aches. Her hands find themselves tangled in Sara's hair, turning her head into the pillow to muffle her moans; why? She's never felt the need to before.

Electricity buzzes and thrums and dances, and the pressure gradually starts to grow. Her back arches and she groans when teeth nip the inside of her thigh as nails rake down her stomach, igniting _need_ all over again. Soft hair twists in her fingers and she smirks lazily at the protesting grunts, easing a little with a reluctant: "sorry." She's never felt the need to apologize before too.

"Don't be." Sara husks as she slowly kisses her way back up—much to Peebee's disappointment. The intensity of the dark and hungry look swimming in gunmetal eyes always sends shivers down her spine. Sara tends to Peebee's neck, a thigh tucked between her legs, the constant pressure teasing her.

"How am I supposed to come with you if I can't walk, Ryder?"

And just why is she whining anyways? Every touch feels bloody _amazing._ If she can't walk, then it'll be a good excuse to get out of boarding the Leusinia.

"What's walking got to do with anything?" Sara retorts, sounding confused. Her touches are getting needier, her nips more desperate. "I don't want to stop yet, Peebee. Gimme another chance."

A chance for what? This is starting not to make sense; there's something missing or misunderstood here.

Peebee hooks her hands on Sara's shoulders and pushes away, sniggering when the human remains, stubborn as ever. "Just look at me for a sec."

" _No._ " The sullen whine is too much. Here be the mighty Pathfinder, all logical and dramatic and such a _baby._ She's definitely not like Kalinda.

"Cut it out, Ryder." She rolls her eyes, but not voluntary. Her hips buck with pleasure when the knee against her presses _just right_ _,_ the friction slowly undoing her. A gasp tears out her throat when Sara bites her shoulder, lavishing attention just on the side of the sensitive folds of her nape. A devilish hand sneaks under the small of her back, immediately sending tendrils of white-hot pleasure when stroked tenderly.

Damn her for paying too much fucking attention.

" _Fuck..._ " Peebee hisses, her body betraying her as her back arches for more, making the knee press harder. She pulls Sara closer, holding for dear life, burning from the inside out. It's killing her that it's so bloody _slow._ "Hurry up," she grumbles, digging her nails in when she feels a smile grow against her neck. "And wipe that off."

"So bossy," Sara lilts playfully, but at least she complies.

It has Peebee torn into two when her next threat is lost to a moan.

Closer, almost there. She brings Sara close enough to pay back the favor and suckles on an old hickey, pleased to earn a shudder and groan and _desperation._

And it all falls apart.

 _"Pathfinder, Kallo wished me to inform you that ETA is now within 1 hour."_

Sara freezes. Her entire freaking body drops, squishing Peebee, who laughs at just how quickly it took to deflate the mighty Pathfinder. "I thought I said 2..."

 _"He did not wish to disturb you."_

"Until now?"

 _"He still does not wish to disturb you. However, it would be unwise to stall any further, or else you will not have time to equip yourself."_

Gears turn. Peebee gently pushes the dead weight off of her, grinning when Sara refuses to budge. "C'mon, we should go." And she knows the easiest way to convince Sara to get moving. "You know... Unless you want to argue with Cora and try to explain why sex is more important than saving the galaxy."

"Ugh, I bet she'd make me explain it to the whole ark as revenge, too." Sara still doesn't move though. Then her head shoots up. "Wait. _We?_ You wanna come?"

Peebee's brow arches in confusion. "Uh, yeah? You said I have to. What did you think I was talking about when I asked about coming, if I can't walk?"

Pressure slips inside of her, curling, pressing on a sweet spot. It overwhelms her before she has a chance to even _think_ about stalling, and her head lulls back as a moan hisses past her lips. Shivers seize her when Sara's warm presence disappears, a mischievous lilt following after her as she escapes the escape pod.

" _That._ "

Oh.

Oh, that insufferable woman.

She's going to pay for this. Peebee will make sure of it.

-—-—-—-—-—-

 _[Caesar -7  
Solve: lnob tgptk]_

A thousand credits on the line. The cipher disappears.

 _[suvi anwar.]_

Deafening music. Crimson lights. Alcohol permeating the air, and too many bodies bumping into her. Sa'mosa's arm hooks around her shoulders. Remy caves, conceding, knowing no amount of glares will make this annoying asari leave her and her shot glass be. Now, more than ever, she wants to drown.

Her first kill, by her own two hands. Well, not technically her first kill. Her turret held that honor. That outcast was like her, though. Rotten. Every time she blinks, she sees him—him, and the intestines pooling out of him. Just like Tafris.

Something catches her eye and distracts her from the dreadful epitome, tethering her attention to the far end of the bar. Anger chokes her at her throat.

Nexus.

And Nexus is staring at her. Or was, now that she's drinking—pretending to, probably, with how scared she looks now. Remy spots another in a clean initiative uniform talking with the boss. She turns and elbows Sa'mosa. "Hey. Look." She jerks her chin to point, looking at the redhead first, who makes no move to avert her gaze this time. Then uses the drink as an excuse again. "It's Nexus. That one keeps staring at me."

"Nexus? Here? They got guts; and _definitely_ no brain cells. Shame. The reddie is pretty. She'll be lucky if she makes it out this port alive."

"Like me." Remy mutters under her breath.

"Looks like the boss is chatting them up. Ten creds says he's getting information to rob 'em blind. We'll have our new orders soon."

"When? Before or after you bring my head to him?" Remy seethes, caving in to anger's incessant begging to confront Nexus. She could take them down with her right now.

...But who's going to take care of the kids?

She's going to die anyways.

Might as well see what Nexus wants with her.

Too many conflicting thoughts and feelings war with each other; but Remy's at peace with her death. It's a long time coming. She's not at peace with abandoning the kids, though. There's no way around it; she's a dead woman. She has no other options left. It's honestly a surprise that Sa'mosa is allowing her to enjoy one last drink, at least.

Saddling up to the redhead, she slides her bandaged hand and drums beside Nexus. The redhead's definitely not an exile—too prim and proper. Clean uniform, fresh smell; nothing like the stench of urine-soaked garbage permeating the port. It's enticing and revolting at the same time. Remy smirks when the redhead's posture grows rigid.

"Why is _Nexus_ staring at me?" she growls vehemently, her heated voice dripping with venom.

-—-—-—-—-—-

 _Beep._

 _Beep._

 _Beep._

Comm-chatter bleeds out as Suvi watches the monitor she's set up beside Remy's bed, checking in on the Pathfinder team every time gunshots breaks Suvi from her reverie. All she can do is adjust frequencies, make sure communications are always open and secure. It's a job SAM can easily do. A distraction she sorely needs.

Lexi keeps pinging her omni-tool, asking her to come to the med-bay. She can't. It's terrifying just to think what _could've_ happened, nevermind talking about it. It's a humble reminder that not all exiles are willing to trust her just because of what kind of uniform she's wearing.

So why did Remy?

Granted, it wasn't right away. But what did she see in Suvi? She still remembers Remy's message, when she didn't believe Suvi for calling her a hero.

 _'You sound like Sophie.'_

Curiosity sparks. Suvi listens to the comms and adjusts frequencies when the quality gradually diminishes, then opens another screen to check Initiative records for a Sophie. Too many pop up—and she has no way to narrow it down. She takes her personal datapad and opens up Remy's file, scrolling down to family.

"Nothing...?" she mumbles, confused. That's odd. There should be names, or some record—even if it's speculation. Maybe Remy wasn't comfortable divulging that part of her life, and the background security checks deemed nothing suspicious?

Maybe, one day, Remy will be comfortable to tell her.

With no other ideas, Suvi sets her datapad aside and dives back into the waiting game. Time ticks by excruciatingly slow. She tries to busy herself by opening other reports, keeping an ear to the comms at all times. It's lonely in here with Kallo gone on a quick break; she has nothing to keep her company except the sounds on the other end of the line.

"Suvi?"

She jumps in her chair, whirling around. Her heart sinks. "H-hello," she smiles weakly. "Lexi..."

Lexi frowns. "You've been ignoring my messages and avoiding me." A statement, not a question.

"I—!" No excuse; it's clear Lexi won't tolerate it. There's no use hiding when Suvi's already caught. Her head drops apologetically. "Yes."

"We need to talk about what happened in the med-bay, Suvi. It's unhealthy to bottle it up—it will only add to your stress and I strongly advise you talk to someone about it. It doesn't have to be me, if you're uncomfortable with me."

"What?" Suvi furiously shakes her head. "No, no! I'm not uncomfortable with you, Lexi. I just..." She chew her lip, turning back and using the comm-chatter screen as her excuse to avoid the doctor's eyes. No doubt Lexi is well aware she's still trying to avoid this all. Guilt weighs down on her, and she smooths out wrinkles in her uniform that _don't even exist._ "I don't know where to begin. It was scary, and shite, and..." She bites harder, drawing blood. "And I'm angry at myself."

"Angry? Why? You're not a soldier, you couldn't have stopped her, Suvi."

"It's not that." Suvi sighs, raking a hand through her hair. "She asked me to wake Remy up. I told her I didn't know how to, because I'm not a doctor."

"I'm well aware. SAM has everything recorded." Silence weighs down. Fear and shame course through Suvi when Lexi mumbles a quiet: " _oh, Suvi._ " A gentle hand rests on Suvi's shoulder. "That's hardly an implication; and in the heat of the moment, we say things we do not necessarily mean if we aren't allowed the time to process. What matters is that you were strong enough to stand your ground and not wake Ms. Kedar up."

Strong enough to stand her ground? Not at all.

"What also matters is that I considered it if I had the _means_ to, Lexi. Just to save myself."

"Anyone would think the same in your shoes. Self-preservation is a natural instinct; it's nothing to be ashamed of or feel guilty for."

Yells on the comms cut them off, and Suvi immediately delves in to change frequencies when it's suddenly distorted, and the others have trouble hearing each other. When everything stabilizes, awkward tension creeps into the silence again. Suvi relaxes when Lexi's footsteps echo away from the bridge.

"Think on it, Suvi. And remember: my door is always open to you. I'm here for you. When the Pathfinder returns, please try to get some rest."

"...I'll try. And thanks, Lexi. Keep me updated on Remy, please?"

"You're already doing that, no? Your secret's safe with me, but you may want to shut that off so the others don't tease you over it."

"What?" Suvi looks over her chair, confused, but the doors slide shut after Lexi. Then she looks back at her station, blushing at the live-feed of Remy sleeping. "Shite!"

-—-—-—-—-—-

"But if she lets her people down again—"

"I'll do my job, Atandra," Sarissa steals a glance at Sara, who stands her ground. "And I'll take the consequences."

The captain scoffs, storming off. Cora regards Sara with a wary look, but hopefully she'll hold off until they board the Tempest before they argue. _Again._

"I don't pretend to know what you're thinking, Ryder," Sarissa mutters. "But... Maybe they'll understand. And forgive."

"You can survive without forgiveness," Cora retorts icily. "They train us for that, too." She gives a pleading look— _pleading,_ one that Sara immediately commits to memory—and starts to turn away. Sara offers Sarissa only a nod; let her interpret that however she wishes. Enough damage has been done today.

Bracing herself for the coming shitstorm, Sara takes a deep breath and prepares for the anguish of her next argument. She's caught off guard when Cora's voice softens, her posture... _Vulnerable,_ almost. It's the informality that stumps her.

"I wouldn't sacrifice you, Sara."

Sara bites her tongue before she leaks about all the times information has been leaked. Cora is the only person she can think of who would be snitching to Tann and Addison. Something's amiss, though, and she heeds her gut as she watches Cora carefully. "You never know; you might have to, someday."

"I don't believe Sarissa had to. They were already on the run, and the kett only became even more aggressive after Sarissa took something from them. I believe—if the data really were that important and crucial to their survival—then Matriarch Ishara would have sacrificed herself and instructed Sarissa to flee with it."

"Not all asari are noble and selfless, Cora..." Sara stops when her the lieutenant does, biting her own tongue; they were doing so well, and _of course_ she had to blurt something that'd just fuel the fire. She rubs her nape when Cora turns around and smiles apologetically. "I'm sorry. I know how much they mean to you, but... But at the same time, there has to be some part of you that's aware of this—that they aren't perfect. They're flawed, just like us."

"Is that why you told the truth about what Sarissa said, but kept her as Pathfinder? To prove that to me?"

"No. I told the truth because I disagreed with her decision to lie about what she did, but I don't disagree about the call she made. We're at war with the kett, in a race to save what's left of the Initiative—and our future. We need people who can make tough calls. Sarissa's experience is what the Initiative needs." Sara looks past Cora's shoulder when someone at the far end of the atrium waves, and she struggles not to smile as a sap as she waves back as coolly as possible. She's already burning under her armor when Peebee's voice echoes in the atrium.

"Hurry up, Pathfinder, you're _slacking!_ We still got people to save and mysteries to solve!"

"Coming!" she shouts, steeling herself as she looks back at Cora. "Forgiveness is what _she_ needs."

 _She:_ Sarissa and Sara.

Sara squeezes Cora's shoulder as she walks past. "And she'll earn it."

"She better," Cora huffs, still disgruntled. "She won't have you there to save her ass, next time."

"Are you implying I'm the asari's Goddess?"

"What? No. Where did you even _get_ that idea?"

"The escape pod." A lengthy pause. Sara smirks when Cora groans, briskly walking away.

"Ugh. That's me never sleeping ever again. Thanks for oversharing, Ryder."

"You're welcome!"

-—-—-—-—-—-

Sara's on fire; she's extremely relieved—and happy—things turned out the way they did on the Leusinia, despite what they uncovered. She does have her doubts about her decisions, as always, but she trusts Sarissa's experience will aid the Initiative; the asari will keep her humble now that they know the truth.

Just as a certain asari keeps her humble too.

...Are Sara's decisions biased, like Cora once pointed out?

"There goes my victory mood," she sighs, slumming it to the bathroom for a much-needed shower—an extremely hot one, at that. No way is she taking part of Lexi's crazy ice-cold shit today.

Hitting the 'occupied' button, she wastes no time stripping down and doesn't bother tossing her clothes in one sensible pile. She desperately needs to melt this tension burrowed in her muscles; she's starting to get stiffer, and can't stretch as far as she used to. She refuses to tip off Lexi—no way is she taking part of that crazy hot yoga shit again.

"God, this is just _sad._ I can face hordes of kett, and here I am, hiding from my own doctor..." Sara groans as she lumbers into the shower stalls, bracing herself for the blast of cool water before it warms. Every bead that beats down on her back helps her relax, and she props her hands along the wall as she hangs her head forward, letting her hair fall as it drenches.

Every part stiffens back up when she hears the bathroom doors slide open. "I'm in here!" she yells out, not surprised the 'occupied' sign has been ignored again. Privacy isn't exactly expected on this ship, but it's her last concern anyways. "Don't care what ya do, just don't flush the toilet or I _swear_ I will airlock your ass off the Tempest!"

Sniggers tell her exactly who it is. Her heart races and she rushes to slick her hair back, plodding over to greet her invader. She smirks when a firm hand rests between her collarbones, pushing her until she hits the cold tiles, her shivers forgotten by the warm lips crashing over hers.

"Payback," Peebee whispers, "did you really think I'd let you get away with what you did to me?"

"Not anymore." Sara reaches to touch, but her hands are pinned to the wall by an invisible force. "Biotics? That's cheating!"

"Too bad, so sad." Peebee grins, releasing the pressure, but only to shove Sara towards the shower. "I'll join ya in a sec."

"Need help taking your clothes off? I'm real good at that." Sara ponders about following, but rushes to wash herself instead. Every part of her is already buzzing and humming, grateful she's _granted_ a chance this time, rather than just creating one. This is good news, right? Nothing to doubt now. It's safe to hope.

It's finally a real chance to unwind and be pried away from her own unforgiving thoughts.

"I'm sure I can handle my clothes, Ryder." Peebee lilts playfully, appearing a moment later. Sara blinks, surprised—and has to do a double take. Peebee's head cocks in confusion, her confident saunter tainted by hesitance. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Your... Markings." If it can be called that. "Uh, mask. It's gone?"

"Well, yeah." Peebee takes control again, pushing Sara against the wall with a smug smirk. "Shower would've washed it off."

"You look different." And youthful. And _cute;_ but Sara bites her tongue before she blurts anything else, smiling nervously when Peebee laughs.

"That's what happens when you wash things off." Peebee flicks between Sara's eyes. "You okay up here? Did I fry your brain already, Ryder?" She pins Sara's wrists beside her head, leaning in and to nip her lips. Water cascades between them, and Sara shivers as the cold tiles contrast the heat emanating from the body brushing against hers.

And then it's gone.

"No... C'mon." Sara tries to reach, but the invisible pressure wraps around her limbs and keeps her glued to the wall. Shudders roll through her body; she's even denied the warm water. Peebee's grin grows devilishly as she traces the curves of her body. "I thought this was supposed to be payback?"

"Oh, it is. And you're going to watch every second." Peebee's hand casually slides between her legs, her head lulling back. "You just don't get to touch."

"What? I don't deserve _this!_ This isn't fair, Peebee."

"Life isn't fair," she shrugs, laughing at the despair that's likely written all over Sara's face.

Sadistic.

Heartless.

Utterly _breathtaking._

Literally. It's got to be the hot water that's making it harder to breathe, apart from this ruthless woman teasing her so callously. She bites her lip and groans when Peebee's head lulls back, lips parting in a breathy moan. Hickies mark her throat and shoulders; and Sara can't make more of them. Helpless, she watches Peebee pleasure herself, counting the minutes of which she will exact her own payback for this cruelty.

"Enjoying the show?" Peebee husks, and Sara nods before she can think to try and lie otherwise.

"Would enjoy it more if it included an interactive interlude."

Peebee smiles lazily, coming up to Sara and brushing their lips ever so lightly, _tormenting_ even more. "How's this?"

"Peebee," Sara growls darkly, "I'm warning you. You'll regret this."

"Oh? Somehow I _really_ doubt that. Sounds like I'm just making it better for myself."

Okay. She's right.

But.

She can't know that.

"Just let me touch you." Sara can't even close the distance and kiss her. " _Please?_ "

Peebee pulls away, but it's her serious look that stops Sara from crying outrage. Her smile's different too; hard to tell what it is, though. Maybe she's taken off her mask for a reason. The moment the pressure is gone, Sara flips their positions and swallows the gasp in her mouth, eager to provoke and listen to the delicious sounds and the way her name is breathed like it's _revered._

"Another difference," Peebee mumbles, slowing Sara down enough for curiosity to catch up.

"What's that mean?"

Another smile; still different, still _new,_ even with Peebee.

"You always beg to touch me." For a fleeting moment, sorrow flashes across the olive orbs. They're replaced by something else when they snap to Sara; she's never seen this side before. The rush to please Peebee simmers, and she takes her time—respecting and revering every inch exposed, inside and out.

"Why, Sara?"

 _Sara._ Not Ryder. Not Pathfinder.

"You said before I scare you. And even when we hurt each other, you always come back. Why do you even...?" Peebee falters, catching and fumbling with their hands.

"Why do I love you?" Sara finishes. "I wonder about that, myself."

"Ugh, don't play games _now._ "

"I'm not. I genuinely wonder. But the thing I've learned about love, is: you don't think about it. You feel it, or you don't. And even though I don't know where we stand, and I don't know what I mean to you, I know I want to be with you every time I think about you. That scares me too." Sara makes the shower a touch hotter, pulling on Peebee's hands so they both warm up under the water. "To be honest, I don't have words for this. But I have arms to hug you, ears to listen to you, and a heart that always aches to see you smile."

Peebee's lips thin, struggling not to smile. She chuckles weakly; her gaze never meets Sara's though. "You're such a sap, sometimes."

"I know." Sara grins cheekily. "Do you like it?"

Peebee rolls her eyes. Her arms gently hook around Sara's shoulders, pulling for a tender kiss, taking her sweet time. That's new, too. It was always skin-deep, fast and heady, in and out and done and business is over.

"Can we stay like this?" Sara asks, running her hands up and down Peebee's waist. "Just share a simple shower for now? Then nap in my room. Promise I'll make up for it later. We can do whatever you want." Dread and disappointment brews when Peebee freezes, sucking in a sharp breath. Sara braces herself and shuts down, backpedaling quickly. "Don't have to stay in my room tonight, if you don't—"

"I will." _What?_ "As long as I get the comfy bed, waking up to a warm, naked girl after a long, _long_ night..."

It's Sara's turn to freeze.

"Besides, you owe me after dumping me where there's no remnant. Again."

"Y-you...?"

"And it better come with strings attached to me, not anybody else."

"There's never been anyone else," Sara blurts, blinking, stumped. Then she grins. Her words, all shot back at her. Well two can play at this game. "You sneaky little shit."

"I aim to please," Peebee shrugs nonchalantly.

Lips crash over hers, and she laughs in the kiss. A gasp is drawn from her when Sara dips and nips her pulse.

"Good." Sara husks, shutting the water off, dragging the woman she fully intends to ravish in bed all night. "You better not miss."

It's time for payback.


	27. Chapter 27

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: Same note as the last, make sure you haven't skipped chapter 25 or 26 by accident since it was a double update last time! There's a minor plot change in this chapter in which one key aspect has just been 'stalled' versus what happens in game. Thank you thank you thank you Shadowbroker11, you're too kind to me! I am glad to hear you're enjoying Suvi & Remy as well as Sara & Peebee :) Hope everybody enjoys and have a lovely day, warm regards!

* * *

Waves calmly lap at the shore. Remy sinks her toes in wet sand, gripping and feeling every single grain beneath her feet. A breeze gently kicks up her hair, but she knows the winds will pick up soon. Dark clouds and thunder roar in the distance. She just wants to surf one last time.

Wading in, she lays on her board and swims out until the waves grow larger, frantic. Each time she bobs up and down, her heart sails. There's something about being at the mercy of nature that commands respect; there's no greater feeling than the freedom of surfing as the current guides her back to shore. The rumbling closes in, the skies darken. She doesn't take shelter and closes her eyes as rain crashes down, listening to each crack ripping across the sky, tuning to the vibrations as they dance through every muscle.

One last time; what would it be like to surf during a thunderstorm?

"A death wish."

Remy turns, surprised to see Suvi. When did she get here? And did Remy ask her question out loud?

"Salty seawater is an excellent electrical conductor, and a lightning strike up to 90 meters away—the size of a football field—in the water can still kill you. Lightning will always seek out the highest point to strike, and a surfer on a wave or sitting in the lineup could be that lightning rod. In the grand scheme of things, the chances of getting struck are still really low; and 17% percent who get struck by lightning actually die."

"I'd rather not join any of those statistics." Remy chuckles wryly, idly following the redhead when she heads to a small cabin. "So watch it from the bar, not my board?"

"Mm-hm~" Suvi disappears inside the cabin, emerging with a towel for Remy. She stabs her board in the sand and hops up the stairs to accept the towel, nodding in gratitude as she turns to watch the thunder from a safe distance away. The sounds shake her to the core. She steals glances as she saddles up beside the scientist, closing her eyes to take in the new sounds and smells from Suvi.

Warmth surrounds her hand. She squeezes back, smiling. "After the storm passes, we should make a huge bonfire. Maybe search for some shells?"

"I'd love that. When you're better, we can go on an expedition. I'll teach you everything I do."

An expedition? That's random, but... "I'm always up for an adventure, and learning; sparks ideas for everything that I do." Remy opens her eyes and looks over, soaking in the sights as Suvi's face is illuminated by lightning. _Need_ ignites and Remy turns, gently pulling on Suvi's hand, catching the other one to swing their arms for senseless fun. She smirks wickedly. "We'll do more than just observe, though, right?"

Suvi chuckles melodically, rolling her eyes. "If we head West."

"Which is better than the North."

"That remains to be seen."

"We'll get to _do,_ which is better than seeing." Remy bounces her eyebrows playfully. "It's the golden rule in any kind of relationship."

"Oh!" Suvi shoves Remy by the shoulder. "You're horrible!"

Music softly plays, and she looks around, confused. "Where's that coming from?" The cabin door swings open, showing a radio beside a lit fireplace. The warm and cozy accents clearly screams _Suvi._ Remy wanders inside, drawn to it, then looks down at her wet suit dripping all over the carpet. "Ah, shit. I forgot to dry myself off." She looks over her shoulder with a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Where's that towel?"

"Don't worry, it's just water. You can dry yourself by the fire if you'd like."

"Seriously? You're the best." Remy doesn't dare squander her gracious opportunity, but still remains mindful of where she walks so that she can mop up the water after she dries off. She holds out her hands and stands as close as she can tolerate the heat. Hands slide along her shoulders, down to her forearms, intertwining fingers with her. "Uh, y-you're gonna get wet..."

No! What a sinfully _stupid_ thing to point out. Shut up and enjoy this. And—

"It's just water, and we're drying in front of the fire." Suvi chuckles as she rests her chin on Remy's shoulder, flattening against the engineer's back and crossing their arms.

A lump lodges in Remy's throat. She doesn't trust her voice to pull through, and closes her eyes to regain control of herself before she turns around and jumps on this woman. Suvi's probably just trying to be romantic, and yet all Remy can think of is stripping them down and taking her in front of this fireplace.

Heel.

 **Wait.**

As much as that word should be obliterated from the dictionary, she needs to behave.

"How's this for a bonfire, Remy?"

Yeah. There's one burning inside of her, alright.

"It's..." Remy clears her throat, taking a deep breath. Every time small hands squeeze hers, she wants to take them and pin them and kiss this bloody woman senseless. She _can't_ say that. She doesn't want to scare Suvi off by being too forward, when they still have much to learn about each other. "It's lovely." It's fucking _hot,_ and it's not because of the fire. Every time Suvi presses closer, Remy's imagination goes wild with what's pressing into her back. All she has is a flimsy wet suit with nothing beneath. And Suvi's playing with the zipper.

She's definitely the storm, not the chaser.

Nerves ablaze, Remy grits her teeth and screams at herself not to fall for the bait. She _will_ be respectful, dammit! But if Suvi's playing with fire, asking for it...

No! Remy needs to tap into her talent of saying no. She's still a pro at it.

Though, like the sea, it can all change in a second.

Suddenly, the radio's louder. The thunderstorm is gone. Calming music surrounds her and the flames gradually simmer. Suvi lets go and walks away; Remy isn't sure if she's relieved or disappointed or pissed—at herself, of course, for not seizing the opportunity so graciously given again. She quietly follows through the rooms until she finds Suvi in a kitchen. It's layout and cupboards look familiar; there's the block and Fucking Butter Knife.

"Would you like some tea, Remy?"

"Sure." She looks around, trying to find the source of the music when it's volume gradually grows louder. Another radio propped by the window. "You really like music, huh?" She casually leans on the counter, crossing her arms, smiling as she closes her eyes, humming along to the parts she picks up. The clack of the mug breaks her from her reverie, and a different flame sparks when she comes face to face with a devious smile.

Fingers run up her forearm. The lights shut off, shrouding them in darkness. Her implants adjust and her hands move with minds of their own. She grabs Suvi's hips and pins her against the counter, no longer able to say _no_ anymore.

"I take it you no longer want some tea?"

"No. I want _you._ " Remy smirks, ignoring the voice that screams she ought to take it slower. "I apologize for not speaking up sooner."

A beat.

"And I want to apologize in advance..." She slowly unzips Suvi's uniform. "...for my behavior tonight."

-—-—-—-—-—-

Humming along with the music, Suvi works away on her laptop in her designated _waiting area._ She nibbles on Remy's string, stealing glances at her and the monitors often, pleased with the consistent readings. She doesn't have to worry about what might happen behind her now either, with Cora dutifully guarding the med-bay, as promised.

Poor Peebee was bored out of her mind within a minute.

It's giving Lexi the chance to finally catch up on much-needed rest herself, after stalling sleep as long as possible to ensure Remy remains in a stable condition.

"Hey Suvi," Cora walks over, leaning against the wall. "Do you have tips on how to grow a rose garden, by any chance? I've been thinking about starting one on Eos."

"Eos?" Suvi blinks incredulously, admittedly caught off guard that _Cora_ is requesting this. Then again, she's been the other caretaker for their plants in the bio-lab. Suvi shuts off her music and disconnects her laptop's connection from Remy's hearing implants. "The soil composition has yet to change to be able to provide adequate nutrition for any vegetation; and it may be some time before the planet acclimatizes for such drastic changes to happen. My last inspection of the micro-fauna inhabiting Eos' terraformed soil didn't yield anything promising."

"Erm, right..." Cora frowns. "So... There's nothing I can do to help support that change? A catalyst? _Anything?_ I can wait, even if it takes decades."

"Hm..." Suvi brings up Eos' reports and analyzes the last topographical chart, referencing it with other data reports. "I'm sure there's something we could try. Can you give me some time to convene with Professor Herik and Chief Lucan? I have a couple ideas, and I'm sure we'll come up with a solution after we all bounce some back and forth."

"Yeah, that sounds great. Thanks," Cora smiles hopefully, "I really appreciate it, Suvi. Sorry if it's a bother."

"Oh, no, not at all! Things like this are exciting and why I volunteered to be here—to help." Besides, maybe this will help with her project on cultivating tea? A few of her experiments have yielded favorable results, but she only has a minute selection of samples in the bio-lab. "It'll be useful information for my own pursuits as well, and it's the least I can do to pay you back for looking out for me." She smiles apologetically. "Especially since it's not as thrilling as your usual endeavors."

"This isn't so bad; a good time to meditate and focus the mind. Safety is important. And it's finally giving Lexi a chance to relax, too." Cora smiles wryly. "I'd rather have her refreshed and caught up on sleep before she pokes me with her next needle."

Suvi hums in agreement, shuddering at the traumatic memory the last time Lexi—clearly exhausted—gave her a booster shot after the last sample Suvi subconsciously licked. "Agreed. That's definitely shite," she blurts, slapping a hand over her mouth and blushing when Cora's laughter fills the med-bay. But Suvi eases in her chair a little bit, glad to have found some sort of common ground with the biotic commando. Out of everyone on board, Cora's been the hardest to get to really know. War tactics and soldier... _Stuff..._ Is a little out of Suvi's comfort zone.

It's nice to know there's a human hiding underneath that uniform.

-—-—-—-—-—-

There's a story in DNA. Lexi analyzes every strand, every molecule, determined to lay this mystery to rest as to who the asari exile is. There has to be a record she's missed.

Biochemical markers have unearthed that 'Sa'mosa' is still in her maiden stage, but is nearing matron—does she have a partner? She's going to make poor mating choices if she's driven by instinct. A shiver rolls through Lexi; she can't imagine an exile actually desiring to settle down and raise children on Kadara.

How many melds were performed, prior to the one initiated with Remy? The damage done to the human's brain indicate that either Sa'mosa must not have had much experience, or the emergency of the situation—exacerbated by the concussion—must not have allowed the asari enough time to properly sustain and terminate the connection.

Careless. Had Remy not underwent surgery, she would've hemorrhaged in a matter of days. Maybe that was Sa'mosa's plan?

...But she exhibited concern when she looked back at the monoliths. And the first thing she did upon waking was to try to 'free' Remy, attacking Suvi in the process.

Lexi sighs as crawls out of her bunk with all her datapads. All that talking and fussing for Suvi to get some rest has left a bitter taste in her mouth, now that she's stalling sleep herself. She just wants answers—to rest in peace and rest assured that everyone will be alright. Harry dodged a hailstorm of bullets by staying on the Nexus.

Sleuthing to the med-bay, she offers Cora and Suvi a tired smile. "Cora, are you ready for round 2?"

"Round 2?" Suvi asks, a flash of nervous across her features when Lexi passes Sa'mosa's plinth to drop off her datapads.

"For Ms. Kedar, you'll see soon." Lexi reassures as she comes around to Remy's side, putting the railings down. Cora quietly sets a soft mat by the wall and sits down, assuming a meditative pose, nodding after a couple deep breaths. "Since she'll be immobile for much of the month, it's imperative we do passive range of movement so that she still retains muscle and nerve function. That, and biotics ensure she won't get any pressure ulcers if we lift her every now and then." She takes the blankets off, smiling to herself when Suvi rises and stays by Remy's side.

"Can I help with anything?"

"For some of the movements, yes. I'd like to stretch her hips first, and then we'll begin physiotherapy." Lexi glances over her shoulder and watches Cora, who's eyes are closed, focusing. "We're ready whenever you are, Cora."

Without another second wasted, Remy is gently lifted off her bed, levitating in place. Lexi immediately sets to work so not to extend the strain on the biotic commando, supplementing some of the force with her own energy. It never ceases to amaze her—for a human to honed such control and focus to this degree? It's not unheard of, but that's usually among older human biotics.

Not the time for the mind to wander.

"Can you position her sideways, Cora?" Lexi lowers the plinth for more space. "Facing away from me." She waits until Remy turns, and tries not to chuckle when she watches how much Suvi struggles to keep her hands glued to her sides. Lexi tenderly pulls on one stump towards her, noting how much restriction there is in the hip flexors. "Not as tight as the first time, but still. Cora, can you please turn her the other way now? And SAM, please note down in Ms. Kedar post-rehab instructions that she must prioritize stretching her hips."

 _"Yes, Doctor T'Perro."_

"Erm..." Suvi smiles sheepishly when Lexi rounds around the plinth. "Do you think she'll actually listen?"

"If she wants her remnant legs, then yes. I'll ensure that stretching is part of the deal." If not, then Lexi will ask Suvi to poke Remy for her.

"Wait, is Gil working on it again, then? You're actually going to let Remy go through with it?"

"Under supervision—and within reasonable limits of how the leg will function for her, of course. I will run every test imaginable before she is going to... _Install_... Her first leg. And encourage fitting her with a SAM implant so that he will be able to translate what her nervous system cannot."

"I can help in that regard; and programming VIs as well. I've studied cybernetics before."

"You'll have to consult with Gil and Peebee regarding the legs themselves—I'm sure they'll appreciate your expertise." Lexi carefully pulls one last time, maintaining a close watch on Cora. This much talking doesn't seem to be interfering with her focus. Breaks are imperative, however. "Cora, please return Ms. Kedar on the bed."

"I can sustain this," Cora returns evenly, features still at peace. Remy rotates and levitates on her back. "She's lighter than kett and remnant combined."

"You've strained yourself on the Leusinia, and haven't gotten anywhere close to replenishing the calories depleted." Lexi steps away and disconnects her own biotic input. "Return Ms. Kedar on the bed."

"Alright, alright," Cora sighs, smirking as she complies. "It's no wonder the Pathfinder avoids you."

"As she _shouldn't_ —as I wouldn't, if she minded her welfare." Lexi takes Remy's hand and supports the elbow, guiding the arm through different movements. She throws a stern look at the biotic commando. "I'm not asking, lieutenant. I'm _prescribing_ you food; go eat."

"Yes ma'am," Cora chuckles as she makes a quick escape out the med-bay.

"Sometimes I feel like a nagging babysitter," Lexi grumbles. Snark relents when Suvi smiles warmly, copying the passive exercises on Remy's other side.

"Someone has to look out for us and be able to get it through our heads." Very, _very_ thick heads. "I'm positive the crew appreciates it."

"If they do, they're doing a very good job conveying otherwise." Lexi shakes her head. "But it's my job. They're patients, not friends." Not guinea pigs either, as Peebee said.

So what _does_ everyone mean to her, then?

"Not friends?" Suvi hums thoughtfully, cradling a hand under Remy's shoulder. She's a quick study. Perhaps she should be present for all physio sessions; it'd certainly be more efficient in cutting down time, which means being able to treat _all_ of the engineer's needs. She will receive the best care possible. Lexi will not allow anything less.

"But we're not just patients either," Suvi notes, her tender smile growing, her gaze always on Remy. "We're family."

Lexi bristles at that. _Family?_ That's the first big **NO** in the doctor's handbook. Conflicts of interest skew judgment and increase the chances of fatality when emotion becomes the deciding factor of where the next incision is made.

The last time a patient became family, he—

"Perhaps the others are," Lexi clips, "but I must remain professional and maintain my distance. The others barely respect doctor's orders. It would be impossible to ensure they follow my advice if I were regarded as a friend instead."

"Oh, they're just teasing you, I'm sure. When you're not around, they listen." Suvi gently lays Remy's arm back down on the plinth. "And distance? I think it's a little too late for that, don't you, Lexi?" She runs her fingers along the engineer's forearm, smirking. "One of the first things you did to convince me to leave and sleep was promising to hold Remy's hand for me. Correct me if I'm wrong, but: that's not typical doctor etiquette. And you've gone above and beyond for Remy for matters that do not necessarily fall under your purview."

Lexi's mouth opens.

And clamps shut.

It's a fair point.

"Think on it, Lexi." Suvi lilts playfully, heading out of the med-bay—it better be for her own break. "And remember: my door is always open to you, too. I'm here for you."

"My own words, Suvi?" Lexi chuckles wryly.

"Someone has to look after the doctor when she becomes her own patient."

-—-—-—-—-—-

She's uncomfortable. She's going to sneak away again if she isn't occupied.

"Hey, Peebee." Sara rolls over and conforms to the asari's back, waving a datapad in front of Peebee's face. "Someone sent me a survey asking me to rate and review my last visit. Can you proofread my entry? Should I add or remove anything?"

Peebee sighs, clutching the blanket tighter as she shifts on her back. Sara steals a quick kiss; it promptly earns an eye roll, but a subtle smirk dances on Peebee's lips. She takes the datapad and sniggers as she reads aloud. "Kett facility. Cold, too many people shooting at me, and no Wi-Fi. Would not go back. 2/5." Peebee shoots a dry look. "A 2? Seriously?"

"What? 1 star for killing kett." Sara plucks the datapad back and tosses it further down the bed. She props up on an elbow, running a hand up Peebee's waist. "Another star for doing it with you." Hands slap over her mouth when she leans down for another kiss, and she laughs.

Blankets get tangled as they roll and wrestle, tickling and resorting to petty tactics to come out on top; at least Peebee isn't cheating with biotics again. Sara pins wrists down, scooting over the asari's thighs. It always sets her on fire every time the olive orbs darken with desire. She leans down, suckling Peebee's bottom lip between teeth, rasping lowly. "Remind me what my heart beats for?"

"Solving alien mysteries and unearthing Remnant ruins?" Peebee quips, hissing when Sara bites harder. " _Fuck._ "

"That's what I thought."

 _"Pathfinder, the Moshae requests your immediate presence on Aya."_

Ugh. If only privacy mode involved SAM not interrupting either...

"Everyone requests it immediately; I don't fucking teleport, people." Sara grumbles under her breath, nipping Peebee's lip when sniggers erupt from her. "Quiet, you."

 _"She has found a lead on the Archon's ship."_

"What?" Sara almost shoots off of Peebee, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. "Seriously?! That's great news, SAM! Alert Kallo immediately; set the course for Aya!"

 _"Yes, Pathfinder."_

"I don't think Kallo teleports either," Peebee lilts playfully. Her smartass grin is smothered by a pillow.

It isn't long before their play fight turns into a _play fight,_ warring for dominance. Sara strikes before biotics are employed, kissing her way down to Peebee's stomach, playing _connect the dots_ with freckles that look more like little stars on the asari's skin. "It's like you've got constellations on your body," Sara murmurs idly, catching the confused—and curious—look from above. She smiles serenely. "Your 'freckles'. They're cooler than mine. Mine are just brown dots—might as well look like mini turds, compared to yours."

Laughter erupts from Peebee, and Sara grins with pride. She eagerly crawls up when she's motioned to come for a kiss, trying to keep her excitement contained whenever she remembers that this is Peebee, and Peebee is _staying._

"Sometimes you make me wonder why I like you, Sara."

Sara.

 _Sara._

It still sounds so foreign when it comes from Peebee—like, is that even her real name? She's gotten used to 'Ryder' or 'Pathfinder'.

"Someday you'll start wondering about the other L-word, Pelessaria." The languid lips against hers stiffen. She pulls away, concerned. "Too much, too fast?" Regret kicks her when Peebee immediately averts her gaze, but at least she's still holding on to Sara; it doesn't bode well when the hands start to slip.

Peebee's eyes lock on her, pleading with her shaky whisper. "Don't call me that ever again, _please._ "

Sara nods dumbly. "I'm sorry..." Why is Pelessaria worse than _love?_ It's a beautiful name. Sara doesn't dare push her luck, though; at least it's the name that's deemed to be the worst thing, and not loving her. Respectfully, she pulls away, not wanting to pressure Peebee even more. It kills her to wedge that space between them when she's _just_ closed the distance; but being pushy is what landed her in half their issues in the first place.

"May I know why?" Sara asks softly, disappointed when Peebee shakes her head firmly.

"It's in the past." Of course it is. "It doesn't matter anymore." Her eyes issue a silent warning. "It shouldn't, if you're going to call me Peebee. Which you will."

"Which I will. There's no doubt about that; but there's no point to an apology if I don't know why I'm apologizing."

Why is she _still_ being pushy when she knows this is how their fights start?

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. Pathfinders need to know _everything,_ " Peebee drawls sarcastically. She grabs their blankets and clutches it tight to her chest, turning sharply on her side. "Well, too bad. Like I said: it's in the past. It doesn't matter."

"It does, if it's still hurting you in the present."

"Augh!" Peebee growls as she jerks the blankets over her head. "You're impossible! Just drop it already, and stop being nosier than Lexi!"

Sara reaches to grab Peebee's shoulder—or what she thinks is the shoulder—but stops herself the last second and refrains from touching the asari. She sighs and concedes, slipping out of bed. "You're right. I'm sorry for pushing again." So close. Too greedy. She knows better than this, and yet hope takes over and blows it all to hell every single time. She just has to be patient for a little while longer—give some space now, too, before Peebee ends up feeling threatened and make a run for it.

"Where are you going, Ryder?"

Sara looks over her shoulder, faking a smile when she sees Peebee peeking over hers. "Got some energy to blow still; gonna exercise for a bit before I head up on the bridge." Before she has a chance to think about it, hope takes control over her mouth again. "You're welcome to stay here."

"Why, if you're not going to be here?"

It seems the question catches Peebee off guard more than Sara. They both stare, dumbfounded, and Peebee huffs when Sara grins knowingly. She readily returns to bed and slides back under the sheets, conforming to the asari's back before she has a chance to hide. When she wraps her arm around Peebee's stomach, fingers intertwine with hers and brings her hand up to rest over the chest. Her throat runs dry when Peebee scoots closer to her.

"Peebee...? Aren't you mad at me?"

"I am."

Oh.

Well then.

...Right. Yeah!

What the hell is Sara supposed to say to that?

No words are coming to mind whatsoever; action doesn't feel _enough,_ especially when it can be interpreted—and misinterpreted—in far too many ways. But her words are the issue in the first place. She keeps her mouth firmly shut, for once, and kisses the back of Peebee's shoulder. Her mind races to analyze this, her heart beating terrifyingly fast that she _still_ can't solve this unknown entity before her.

One thing's for sure. She's being given a chance—even after yet another poor decision and blatant mistake. She still can't help but wish Peebee were a little more open, but Peebee's probably wishing for her to be a little more patient. Or quiet.

Likely quiet.

Trust comes with time— _proof._ Sara's determined to give that; just as Peebee is giving that back to her. She's still staying, no matter how stiff and uncomfortable she is now.

Sara presses her lips in a little harder, squeezing the hand intertwined with hers. " _Thank you._ "

A snort. "For what? For being mad at you?" There's a slight pause, but there's a _smile_ in Peebee's voice. "You really are crazy, Sara."

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Is this not seeing, rather than doing?"

"Your logic shall not wound me," Remy scoffs indignantly, indulging her other innate love as she adjusts the camera lens and captures a tree kangaroo. "Photography's doing."

"You have to see first before taking the shot." Suvi comes up beside Remy, bumping shoulders. The engineer _refuses_ to look over and see the smile that is most certainly all over Suvi's face. "You might want to think about your next point, before you inadvertently prove my hobby is therefore considered _doing._ "

"Mmngg..." Remy gives an exasperated look. "You got me. What do I win for losing?"

Suvi chuckles sweetly, giving an affectionate kiss before she walks deeper into the forest. It plants a grin back on Remy's face. She aims her camera at Suvi, then whistles.

She turns around.

...Her face is missing.


	28. Chapter 28

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: Merry Almost Christmas! This chapter's ending probably won't elicit a merry response for numerous reasons :P Hope everybody's prepared and survives the holiday madness though. Wishing you all lots of love—and of course, lots of gifts! Don't forget to give loved ones extra 💓💋 since they're gifts too :) If I don't trek out another chapter in time, then see you in 2019 and _HAPPY NEW YEARS!_ Let's make the most of this year while we still can!

💓 you all! Hope you enjoy, cheers!

* * *

Ethically, Lexi can't keep Sa'mosa under any longer. Her shoulder has healed; the strength uncontested, based on how she _handled_ Suvi. Lexi passes a concerned glance at Remy. She too will be at risk if the asari exile attempts to wake her; are there any ways to reason with Sa'mosa, if Suvi wasn't able to?

Lexi pings the Pathfinder's omni-tool and sends a message. _[What are your orders on the asari exile? Will we be returning her to Kadara?]_

As she waits for a response, she rises from her terminal and checks Sa'mosa's vitals. Her biotics are nothing to trifle with if she was able to employ them even while heavily medicated; Peebee and Cora will have to be here for damage control. Perhaps they can unlock the plinth and move Sa'mosa to a different room, minimize the risk to Remy? Her omni-tool buzzes and she checks her message, groaning at the inevitable headache that's to come.

 _{Let me think about it. We're heading back to the Nexus first to pick up Liam. We'll be returning to Kadara soon anyways, so I'll have a decision by then.}_

Liam. Why Liam? Why add to the stress and overcrowd this damn med-bay with that reckless man's antics and his 'tactical' risks? What happened to a full month of recovery? And that's the minimum; he should have a couple weeks left. Either the physiotherapists have magical abilities to speed up the healing process, or Liam's persistent nagging has exhausted them to clearing him and returning him to her care much earlier than he should be.

Lexi makes a big bold note on his chart; the prescription entered and finalized is one she fully intends to ensure he will follow to the letter, no excuses.

 **BED REST.**

Bed rest means med-bay though, since the armory he lives in doesn't have such amenities. She nearly—shamefully— _scrambles_ to amend the chart.

 **COUCH REST.**

If it's not a thing, it is one now.

Doors slide open behind her. She doesn't need to look to know who it is, and smirks. "Taking your new appointment in stride, Suvi?"

A sharp breath. "Am I that obvious now?"

"Well, you are the only one who visits here. Apart from the others when they need patching up." Lexi signs off on her chart and turns in her chair, picking up a datapad. "I do have good news for you; Ms. Kedar's latest scans."

It's enough to spark hope in her colleague's eyes.

"However, due to patient confidentiality..."

And destroy it in the same second.

"Oh, come on, Lexi!" Suvi groans exasperatedly, marching over, hand thrust out and bouncing expectantly for the datapad. Her stern look—a horrible attempt to look intimidating—falters, replaced by pleading eyes. "Please?"

"Just teasing you," Lexi chuckles, handing the datapad over. "But her charts _are_ confidential, and I'm only granting access because of your expertise in cybernetics."

"There's something wrong with her legs?"

"No."

A brief pause. Lexi smirks when Suvi looks at her, confused. Then it dawns. "Oh. Ah. _Yes._ Well, then, I look forward to sharing what I know and working with you." Suvi doesn't even look up when she lies through her teeth, though her eyes would be a dead giveaway even to the untrained eye. She eagerly takes her seat beside Remy as she roves over the contents on the datapad. "This red area here... That's not bleeding, is it?"

"Brain activity." Lexi walks over and points at the visual of Remy's brain, pointing at various other red spots amidst the green. "These scans were taken as I was testing her to see if she consistently reacted to various stimuli, and she does. Which doesn't come as a surprise since she was still somewhat self-sufficient and conscious prior to being put under, but"—she draws a circle around the largest area of activity—"see where all this activity is?"

"...The left hemisphere." Suvi looks up, puzzled. "Didn't you say that's in charge of speech? Does that mean she's been talking?"

"Not out loud, but I suspect she is in her dreams."

"So the good news is...?"

Lexi chuckles, redirecting attention to the scans. She swipes to the next set showcasing how far along the healing process is. "Because the surgery required the areas in charge of motor speech to be removed, the brain was left with no neural connectivity. Her dreams are helping her pave new pathways. She's healing _and_ rehabilitating." Lexi taps the screen. "What's still unclear is why. Her body should be focused on healing, so I suspect an external output is assisting her with rehabilitation. Have you been speaking to her?"

Suvi shakes her head, looking at Remy, lost in thought. "I've been playing music, borrowed from the Pathfinder and some of my own. Recordings of thunder, too."

Thunder's loud and chaotic. Not an ideal choice to lull the mind and facilitate efficient mending.

"Remy loves storms."

Or perhaps is ideal, if one actually finds that soothing.

Suvi's head snaps up to Lexi. "So if I do start talking to her, maybe through the headphones or connect to the audio implants... Would that help?"

"She won't be talking fluidly upon waking, but it will certainly help speed up the process and make the transition smoother when we resume our speech therapy." Lexi taps the datapad. "And with the rate her brain's been healing at, I suspect another week before I can ween her off the medication and allow her to regain consciousness naturally."

"One more week?" Disappointment is etched in every single one of Suvi's features. Lexi simply smiles, and the poor woman sighs as she turns to Remy and grabs hold of the engineer's hand. "It's so close, but so far away..."

"Just be patient. Keep doing everything you're doing to support her, because it's working." Lexi takes the datapad away and heads back to her desk, searching for what she could use to help Suvi talk to Remy privately. There's nothing, however, but hopefully she'll get ideas when she mulls on it a little longer. "I don't have any devices that will allow you to speak to her privately, but I can step out and go on break early, if that's okay with you?"

"Of course!" Suvi beams a bright smile as she works on setting up her laptop on Remy's stomach. "Is there anything I should talk about specifically that may be beneficial? Sounding out syllables, or something?"

"To be frank, that's where my knowledge on neuro-rehabilitation ends. I'm still reading up on as much material as I can. I'll be convening with Dr. Carlyle soon to see if he has any additional advice on what else I can try, or improve on." Lexi gathers her datapads and a couple books, heading for the med-bay's exit. "All I can suggest now is: do what feels natural. It's highly likely that not all parts are being filtered into her dreams." She shoots a wry smirk over her shoulder. "And it may confuse her if the dream-you starts going 'eee-ooo'. Keep an eye on the monitors. There's evidence that your presence alone is enough to calm her; hearing your voice will surely help."

"Understood. And thanks for updating me—thanks for everything, really. Time and time again, you've gone out of your way to provide her the best treatment."

Lexi stops at the door, mulling on it for a moment. While she does feel good... "Just doing my job."

"Here we go again. Not everyone has your definition of 'just doing my job', Lexi," Suvi chuckles wryly.

With a humble shrug, Lexi leaves before what she really wants to say ends up coming out. She still has her reservations about the exiles; but—as a doctor—she's obligated to treat them, as per the oath she'd sworn to uphold when she'd been inducted and registered as a physician.

Hopefully she stays as a physician.

Not an accomplice.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Autumn leaves. They're fiery red, like her hair. Rain scarcely breaches through the thick forest, but it's enough to dampen the trail they're hiking on.

Remy doesn't recognize this forest.

"Are we even in Indonesia?" she mutters, looking around when she hears a faint... Drum beat? None of this makes sense. She looks ahead to the woman who appears to show no signs of slowing down, backpacking and clearly enjoying herself with how she looks around, admiring the trees, picking up leaves, studying the life surrounding them. A scientist through and through; Remy can relate to the innate curiosity, a desire to understand everything.

Crisp air rushes with the evening breeze as a flute plays somewhere. Probably other hikers. Remy jogs to catch up with Suvi, watching the woman watching nature, marveling beneath the shelter of trees. No words are coming to mind. She stays silent and closes her eyes, listening to the sounds of the woodland denizens.

A hand slips around hers and she smiles.

"Known as Big Tree Country," Suvi murmurs, "Perthshire has many dramatic autumn colours at this time of year. The Hermitage—a National Trust for Scotland's protected site—houses giant Douglas firs, which are among the tallest trees in the UK. Visitors can walk to the Black Linn Falls and stroll along the banks of the River Braan, where the sharp-eyed can spot salmon leaping up the falls to spawning grounds further up the river."

Remy bites her tongue before she inadvertently loses their ongoing war. She has the answer of where they are, at least. Opening her eyes, she looks down at the hand no longer wrapped around her own, and Suvi is up ahead again. It's too easy to lose track of time in this bloody forest. Remy wants to be _here_ for every second of it.

Camera in hand, she runs to catch up again, eyes peeled for said salmon as they near the falls. Someone's playing violin in the distance.

"The Hermitage has always been my personal favorite, only because my father used to take me out on expeditions here." Suvi holds out her hand for Remy to slow down, pointing at a dam. Remy squints. She zooms in with her camera instead, grinning when she catches beavers. "Dollar Glen comes to a close second for me. _Perfect_ for a countryside walk with waterfalls and wildlife all around. It's interesting to see the remains of Castle Campbell—the 15th century fortress—too. It's a marvel how far engineering has come."

Engineering. Remy's ears perk at that and a proud grin sweeps her face. "That's the best part of my job—I get to make history and pave the path to the future at the same time. It just doesn't get any cooler than that."

Chuckles hum. Suvi continues down the trail, hiking her backpack higher on her shoulders. "Branklyn Garden is _the_ place for all botanists around the globe; a pilgrimage of sorts for plant lovers."

Like Suvi. No wonder she has that delicate touch of a flowery scent all the time. Not in the face and strong enough to choke, thank god. Some perfumes need to die.

"There's always something to see in any season. Magnolias and purple Japanese maples in the summer, alpine flowers and Himalayan blue poppies in the spring. My favorite's autumn—the katsura tree produces this _delicious_ burnt sugar scent when it's leaves turn."

Good lord, Remy's lost their war before she's even had a fighting chance to prove doing is better than seeing. Even _she's_ being swayed here. She falls in step beside Suvi, enjoying the walk and talk—well, listening, more like. Remy can listen to that voice on repeat forever. If Suvi wanted to, she could make _anything_ sound good.

Honestly, the Initiative would make a killing if they got Suvi to market some products and voice some advertisements. Easy bank.

"Your accent's cooler than mine," Remy mumbles under her breath; for some reason, something in there feels off. Her jaw is stiff. She tries to wriggle it to loosen it up, trying to say something else, trying and failing over and over again. She blinks, and she's alone. The music is gone. Thunder rolls through. In another blink, she's out in the open—it's not thunder, but the waterfall.

Looking around for her guide, she spots Suvi climbing up a steep trail. "Wait for me!" Her voice is drowned by the deafening waterfall. She musters the courage to look over the edge to see if she'll get a chance at catching the salmon in action; no such luck.

But she sees—

"...Sophie?"

Earth isn't beneath her feet anymore. The waterfalls are closing in. She realizes too late that _she's_ falling, falling into water that suddenly turns to blood.

Darkness swallows her before she has a chance to scream.

 _"Let the sea set us free."_

-—-—-—-—-—-

Nexus. Sara is dreading picking up Liam, honestly, but she intends to keep her promise. She's not looking forward to how much more stress Lexi will be under, caring for another person. It's sad that there just isn't _any_ doubt whatsoever that Liam will find his way to the med-bay soon enough. Still, his skills are an asset.

Maybe she'll somehow convince him to stay on the ship instead of going boots on the ground somewhere. No chance. But. Miracles have been known to happen.

"SAM, where's that—what did Professor Herik want us to pick up?"

 _"A young pyjak. It is in a cage and located in the Common Area to the right of the tram station, near the ordnance merchant."_

"Alright, can you send a note to Kesh and ask if she's got any spare hands to help us load the space monkey onto the Tempest?"

 _"Pyjak, Pathfinder, and yes. On an unrelated note: Liam is requesting that you 'hurry up'."_

"He's eager, I can relate."

 _"And still healing."_

She can relate to that too; a secret between her and SAM. An open secret to Lexi.

"What? So how did he get clearance?"

 _"I do not know. I suspect it may be due to the high volume of colonists that will need to be tended to in order to repair Ark Leusinia."_

"Makes sense, but my gut tells me he probably drove them crazy," she smirks, "like Lexi." As she enters the tram and inputs her destination, she folds her hands behind her hand. "Well, we'll see why soon enough. On another unrelated note—" there's literally _millions_ of them. "—what do you think we should do with the asari exile, SAM?"

There's a pause. SAM doesn't answer right away, and she looks up at the ceiling, waiting. "SAM?"

 _"My apologies, Pathfinder. I did not expect to be asked."_

She didn't expect an AI to have expectations, either. She keeps her own observations about the AI's growth—and her proud mama grin—to herself.

"We're partners." _K_ _inda~_ hard not to be with an extra voice in her head. "I value your input just like any member on the team. So? What's your take?"

 _"I suggest Ms. T'Lova be kept under until Ms. Kedar is awake."_

Sara clicks her tongue off the roof of her mouth, shaking her head. "Lexi won't like that."

 _"No she will not. It is unethical. However, it will prevent another situation like what happened with Dr. Anwar, as Ms. T'Lova attacked in order to free Ms. Kedar."_

"Hm... And we can brief Remy on it—see if she's willing to be the first face the exile sees, prove they're okay."

 _"Precisely, Pathfinder."_

"A sound decision. Good work, SAM. Could you let Lexi know for me, please?" The tram doors open. She sucks in a deep breath and steels herself before she steps out. "And inform her that if she has any concerns, I'd be happy to explain and accept any consequences that come from this."

No doubt Lexi will be stuck in a moral quandary over this. She has enough sitting—shitting—on her mind.

Anxious steps hasten the closer she gets to the med-bay. She isn't sure if she'll want to scold or hug the man, reminded of how much she misses just sharing a beer and actually get to _relax_ —no chill pills necessary. As soon as the doors open, Sara's greeted with an excited: "Pathfinder, finally! Took you long enough."

Liam hobbles over on crutches, and she gives him a pointed look as she crosses her arms. "I was told you were fit for duty. You're fit to drive Lexi crazy, if anything."

"Aw~ I miss you too."

Sara scoffs and turns away to hide her smirk, waving exasperatedly. "C'mon Cap'n Klutz. Hustle."

Crutches click and clack as Liam rushes to keep up with her as they head back to the tram. "So what's new? Get rid of the exiles yet?"

"Nah, Remy's a permanent patient." She shoots a teasing look over her shoulder. "Like _someone else_ I know."

"Get off," he laughs, "Lexi's gonna give me a hard 'nough time."

"We picked up another one too, friend of Remy's." When they reach the stairs, she frowns, deciding to offer her arm. "Here; Pathfinder and glorified railing, at your service."

"Heh, thanks." Liam holds both crutches under one arm and grabs hold of hers, hopping up one at a time. "Don't let me fall and bust my head open."

"I wouldn't dare. I _already_ don't hear the end of it from Lexi for myself."

They board the tram as she fills him in on everything that's happened after he was dropped off. The entire time, something nags her at the back of her mind.

Get rid of the exile **s**.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Sorry I'm late," Sara grumbles in front of the vidcon, making no move to hide her contempt for Director Tann. "My alarm didn't go off because I didn't set it because I don't want to be here."

"Something we share in common, Pathfinder. I will make this quick. I have intel suggesting you have another exile on board."

Who snitched this time? Director Addison doesn't seem like she'd rush to Tann with this, unless she enjoys him breathing down her neck.

"I've taken appropriate security measures and she is contained. You can rest assured she does not pose a risk to my crew." Sara shrugs without a single fuck to give. She's spent all of them on politics both on and off the ship. "But I know that isn't your concern. As long as whoever's leaking all this information to you doesn't go to HNS or Keri, then nobody will know. No political shitstorm—everybody's happy. Are we done? I have a million things to do. _Li_ _terally._ "

Tann stares. It's hard to tell if he's glaring through the hologram, like her, but hopefully her unfiltered sass conveys—and emphasizes—her displeasure crystal clear.

"Another thing we share in common," Tann retorts flippantly, and she rolls her eyes. "Ensure this risk remains contained. We cannot be seen cooperating with the traitors. Otherwise, rumors will circulate and there will be widespread panic, and—"

"With all due respect, Director, I'll tell you the same thing I told Addison. As much as you'd like to pretend otherwise, the exiles are a part of the Initiative. I fully intend to repair the damage _you've_ done and convince them we're on the same team—one without centuries-old prejudices that should've been _fucking_ left behind." Her voice cracks with barely restrained venom. She only _just_ rolled out of bed, she's in no mood to run in circles and play nice, mincing words. "My ship, my rules."

"Let me remind you that I am the Director of the entire Initiative and my authority supersedes yours, Pathfinder. There will be consequences if you disobey."

"Let me remind you I'm the one that's saving what the fuck is left of the Initiative, so your authority can kiss my ass." Sara leans on the console, wishing she could be directly in front of this sleazy salarian. "If ark Hyperion didn't dock and save the day, you'd be starving and exile everybody else just to save your own snakeskin. Nobody would be left to 'disobey'. The exiles got a lot farther than the remnants of the Initiative by disobeying you in the first place; think real long and hard on that, _Director._ " She pivots sharply, too riled up to push the button herself. "SAM, terminate the vidcall."

Storming down the stairs, her gaze locks with Peebee, waiting by the research center. As soon as their eyes connect, Peebee smiles and holds out her hand. "Kadara is 6 hours away. Wanna sleep in?"

"Yes _please,_ " Sara sighs exasperatedly, already taking off her shirt. Peebee rolls her eyes at the sight of the Blastos tanktop.

"Hope you don't plan on wearing that next time we see the Archon's ugly mug."

"Too late, already did." Sara shrugs, "when we first met." She grins when the asari groans. "What? It was under my shirt! Nothin' beats a hanar spectre."

"You're so lame," Peebee chuckles, shaking her head. Her hand bounces expectantly as she turns. "Last chance, slow slogger."

Is slogger even a word? Maybe it didn't translate properly. Regardless, Sara doesn't need another hint. She accepts the offer graciously, threading their fingers together, trying to swallow the giddiness in her chest. Peebee's hand is cool to the touch, thank god—she needs to cool off after that meeting with Tann. And maybe some chill pills. She slows in their walk and squeezes the asari's hand. "You heard all that, right? Do you think I was too much? Too sassy?"

"Too classy for the likes of him," Peebee huffs, smiling _for_ Sara. "And by the way, there is something that would beat a hanar spectre."

"Oh?"

"An elcor spectre." Peebee clears her throat, then assumes a monotone voice. It's so unlike her. "Remorsefully; try not to scream, human."

Sara laughs, but a shudder shoots down her spine when she actually imagines it. "Oh, god, that would be scarier, yeah."

"I'd know," the asari shrugs, "mount a cannon on the back, they're good to go. Watch some fireworks."

"Oh, right, your dad was an elcor." She reluctantly breaks the link between them to climb down the ladder; curiosity sparks. "What was he like?"

"Ugh, annoying. He was a psychologist."

Sara bursts out laughing and nearly falls flat on her ass when her feet touch the ground. She ends up falling when Peebee takes the same ladder and knocks her off her balance with biotics. The asari stands over her, hands on hips, grinning mischievously as she assumes the same elcor impersonation. "Consolingly; I see. Curious; and how does that make you feel?"

"No way," Sara breathes between chuckles, " _no way_ was he a psychologist." Then again, suppose it's not too much of a stretch if the Citadel had elcors in politics.

"You'll recall I did mention he ended up being the quick-witted one, after my mother slowed down? His smarts are the only reason she chose him." Peebee's shit-eating grin is far too wide to be taken seriously; she _has_ to be pulling Sara's leg. "C'mon, you're wasting time down there." The asari offers her hand, the mirth replaced by a sultry look. "You should be doing something _productive_ instead."

"Offended indignation; is sex all I'm good for?" Sara retorts as she reaches for the hand, laughing when Peebee scoffs and shoves her back down instead, leaving her to fend for herself as she clambers to her feet and follows the asari to her quarters.

Revenge is immediately sought after the second her doors close, granting them privacy. Sara grunts when she's pushed against the wall, teeth scraping her shoulder, nimble hands making short work of her belt. Her lip is bit and suckled, sending tendrils of heat down to the pits of her belly. A pitiful whimper is coaxed out of her when Peebee strokes her through her underwear.

This is new; usually, the asari's turn is first.

Every nerve is set ablaze as a hand sneaks under her tanktop, raking nails down her back. Pain licks a spot on her neck, tended to affectionately soon after Peebee bites hard enough that's sure to make _another_ hickey. "Scarf day today?" Sara rasps weakly, groaning when she's nipped again. A boot hits the insides of her feet, spreading her legs wider, and electricity buzzes when she's _finally_ touched bare. Her hips rock instinctively, needing more; it feels too weird to be taking and not giving, though.

Apparently she's not allowed to anyways—one deft hand catches her wrists together, and breaths skirt over her ear. "You first. You need it more. Might as well be wearing armor, after that meeting. Forget everything. That doesn't matter anymore."

" _Fuck,_ " Sara husks when Peebee's fingers enunciate her point—she clearly won't settle for anything less than what she wants. The blastos tanktop decorates the floor soon enough, and goosebumps break out when Sara's firmly pressed against the cold wall.

Her omni-tool lights up.

 _"Pathfinder, got a question for ya."_

"Fuck, Liam," Sara growls, and a rush of need jolts through her when Peebee kisses her throat, pushing deliciously with her fingers.

"Answer it," the asari whispers, "I dare you."

"Mnngg... Shouldn't you be telling me to shut it o— _oh fuck_ that feels good..."

" **You** need to shut off. I'll help with that." Peebee hides her smug smirk in Sara's neck. "But first: answer it."

There's absolutely no doubt what the asari's intention is. Sara rises to the challenge, too proud to say no. She accepts Liam's comm-link request. "There will be consequences for this." Good god, her voice is as rough as rocks. And she can't care. "It better be—" she sucks in a sharp breath and bites her tongue when Peebee pumps and curls inside of her. "— _ihh-_ important enough to risk your _f-fucking_ _..._ " Pleasure blinds her and she barely silences the moan bubbling in her throat. "...life."

 _"Not really."_

Jesus, all that effort to try and be inconspicuous, and this asshole...!

"Disconnecting."

 _"Wait, Pathfinder!"_

Too late. Sara doesn't screw around, unless it's screwing around with a specific person. She disables her comms and pushes to stare at Peebee expectantly, who smiles back as if she's innocent and clueless.

Fucking liar.

"Turn yours off too, bef—"

 _"Peebee, got a question for ya. Is the Pathfinder with you?"_

"Don't you dare answer it," Sara warns as menacingly as one can, half-naked.

"You know he's just gonna go on the system comms then, right?"

Sara groans exasperatedly. "No! Stop being reasonable. It's not allowed anymore. I firmly forbid it. Pathfinder's orders. Punishment is the airlock."

"Oh, well, then. Okay." Peebee all too eagerly pulls away.

"No! Stop being unreasonable too!"

And adds insult to injury as she licks her fingers.

"That's it," Sara hastily buckles her belt, darting to grab Peebee's wrists, twisting until the asari is the one pinned against the wall. Desire _demands_ it's due.

 _"Peebee?"_

"FUCK!" Sara explodes, and Peebee's evil cackles fills the spacious room—echoing, surrounding, _haunting_ the poor pathfinder.

 _"Are you alive? Is the Pathfinder holding you hostage? I'm willing to negotiate; what are her demands?"_

Sara grabs the asari's forearm and jerks it up to her face. " **Answer it.** " A request all too happily indulged. As soon as the comm-link is established, the pathfinder's voice drops lowly, gravelly, oozing venomous murderous intent. She enunciates every single word crystal clear to make sure the promise is conveyed properly: every single second—of the last seconds of Liam's life—will be excruciatingly painful.

"I will find you." Her nostrils flare. "And I will _torture_ you. When I am through with you, you will be begging me to kill you."

 _"Pathfinder."_

No nonsense. Something's off, derailing Sara from emotion as logic comes rushing back. She exchanges concerned looks with Peebee.

 _"That pyjak. It got out it's cage."_

"Okay, and?"

 _"And it shit all over Peebee's bot."_

"What?!" Peebee screams, and there's absolutely no hesitation as she marches out with a vengeance. "I'm going to kill that thing!"

Curses are still heard even after the doors close. Sara's left all by her lonesome self in her quarters, staring, contemplating. She calmly redresses herself.

And marches out with a vengeance.

"I'm going to kill you, Liam."


	29. Chapter 29

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: Happy New Year everyone! Hope 2019 has treated everyone well so far. Time is flying by so fast! Well, hope you enjoy this chapter, and brace yourself. Thanks for reading my story and for taking the time to leave a review too (especially you ShadowBroker)! I appreciate it a lot 💓💋

* * *

Tap. Rap. Drum. Sara's fingers beat an aimless tune as she waits for the resistance's spy to show up, scrutinizing every angara that enters the bar or seems to be watching her. She spares a few glances in the direction of where her team's hiding—just in case if shit hits the fan and a brawl starts in here; or rather, gets too carried away, with how often a punch or two is shared among drunken patrons.

 _"Are you sure the contact is going to meet us here?"_ Peebee asks over private comms. Sara shrugs as nonchalantly as she can, turning towards the bartender.

"Umi, whiskey?"

"You look like you're waiting for someone."

Sara's head snaps to the familiar voice—but not overly familiar face. She resists the urge to look over in Peebee's direction when she pipes up. _"Hey~ that guy! I remember him. Not his name. Tell him to come back for a party later."_

"Yeah," Sara replies, then shakes her head when she catches on to that. "Wait, no."

"You... Aren't?" The familiar man cocks his head in confusion, a charming smile on his face. "I'm quite sure you are."

"Yes, I am, but—" Sara graciously accepts the bartender's drink and knocks it back, hoping it'll knock some sense into her weary brain. Her glass hits the bar. A name pops into mind and rolls off her tongue. "Reyes, isn't it?"

"I go by many names," he shrugs. "Shena is one of them, but call me Reyes. I hate code names."

" _You're_ the Resistance's contact?" Sara blinks dumbly. And grins. "A smuggler and a spy. You must be the richest man in the port." Though Reyes smirks smugly, her face falls flat as her eyes narrow. "Which brings the matter of that large bill you left me with last time..."

"Vehn Terev is an expensive man, no?"

"Don't be cute, you still owe me. The intel's just a bonus. Now how can I get him without tipping off Sloane? I doubt she'll deal with me so I'm not going to bother with her."

"I'll tell you if you forget the debt."

Sara sighs, "I can't believe we're negotiating this. _Fine._ Consider it forgotten."

"Perfect! Let me contact the Resistance first and I'll get back to you once we have a way in." Reyes gives her a wink before he walks away, and she watches, defeated.

Peebee laughs on the comms. _"He played you like a sucker. I can't believe you agreed. Nice ass though, huh?"_

"My ass is nicer," Sara grumbles. A grin is plastered back on her face when Cora groans in disgust. "Quick, Peebee, let's talk about asses in greater detail."

 _"How about you don't and say you did?"_ Cora drawls, unimpressed.

 _"Or~ how about we do and still say we did?"_ Peebee lilts mischievously. Sara walks over to the corner the asari's hiding in with something to prove. The two laugh when Cora sighs.

 _"I'm heading back to the Tempest. Just... Keep your damn clothes on, please?"_

Sara shoves Peebee against the wall, dark smirks playing on their lips as they reenact their last _tryst_ here. "That's an easy promise to keep."

-—-—-—-—-—-

 _"Pathfinder, you may wish to restrain your reaction to what I am about to inform you."_ SAM chimes on their private channel. _"It may cause panic among the others."_

Sara nods subtly as she marches back to the Nomad with the transponder finally in hand. Nothing could possibly ruin her mood right now. The Archon's got it coming.

 _"Director Tann has sent an order for you to turn over control of the survey ship Tempest to Pathfinder Theris, and that you will be grounded on the Nexus."_

Sara takes that back. She stops suddenly, biting her tongue before she screams what in the world that snake is thinking now. Peebee is the first that notices and turns around, holding out her hand with a reassuring grin. "Tired already, you turning into an old lady on me?"

"I explicitly remember you having a hard time keeping up with me," Sara teases back, jogging to take the asari's hand, squeezing it until Peebee winces.

"Ow~ ease up. What the heck?"

"S-sorry," Sara chuckles weakly, not unaware of the doubtful eyes lingering on her. "C'mon, the sooner we get this transponder to Gil, the better."

 _"He's requested another meeting on the vidcon, Pathfinder."_

"Can I drive the Nomad this time?" Peebee asks hopefully; without thinking—or caring—Ryder nods. The asari cheers, their arms swinging up triumphantly.

Cora groans ahead. "I hope you know what you're doing, Sara."

Has she ever?

"Jealous, Cora?" Peebee lilts teasingly, and the lieutenant rolls her eyes. Sara watches Cora carefully the entire time back to the port, plastering a fake grin and laughing at the two trading snarky jeers along the long drive back. The bumps never break her from her reverie, formulating a counterplan and musing what to do now.

Is this Tann retaliating against her for her attitude during their last meeting? It must be. What does he think Sarissa can do that Sara can't? She should be getting her own team to truly be effective and cover twice the ground, completing twice the amount of missions, and doing twice the amount of good for the Initiative.

And on top of it all, Sara's the one that can interface with the remnant. SAM has access to her physiology, not Sarissa's. Tann knows that. What the hell is he thinking?

Pride. Pride is what's thinking; and it's not just for Tann either. Sara refuses to back down.

A nudge drags her away from her thoughts. She glances over from the co-pilot seat, faking another smile when Peebee looks at her with growing suspicion. "You okay? You've been really quiet. And weird. You getting cold feet with the Archon or something?"

"Or something," Sara sighs as she removes her helmet and sets it aside. She glances over her shoulder to make sure Cora's maintaining watch on the radars. She holds out her hand, warring whether to tell Peebee or not—the asari will be pissed off if she's shut out; but she may also be in danger and suffer for Sara's stupidity if she's shut in.

Firm fingers intertwine with hers, making the Nomad a little bit jerky as the gung-ho asari drives with one hand. Peebee squeezes, still stealing worried looks the entire way. She mouths silently: _"tell me later?"_

Sara pretends she doesn't see it.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"SAM, lock down all of the research center's doors. Everyone will just have to sit tight for a little bit."

 _"Doors locked."  
_

Sara paces about the vidcon room, trying to get her emotions under control before her snark breaks out and lands her in even deeper trouble. "Thank you. Also, if Gil figures out the transponder during the meeting, notify me on our private channel so that Tann doesn't know."

 _"Yes, Pathfinder."_

"Alright." She stops to take a deep breath. "Let's do this. SAM, connect to Director Tann." She crosses her arms and continuously tells herself to stay calm, but the second the snide bureaucrat's hologram materializes in front of her, her temper and pride battle for control. "Director Tann. I'm calling you to discuss about your decision to hand my ship over to Sarissa."

"Pathfinder Theris," he corrects pointedly, clasping his wrists behind him as he puffs out his chest. That smug smile is written all over his body language even if it's not on his face. "I stand by my decision. You are to return to the Nexus at once and hand over the Tempest—and the entire crew—to Pathfinder Theris."

"With all due respect, Director Tann, I'm the only one capable of interfacing with the remnant. Even if we upload the data to Sari—Pathfinder Theris' SAM, she won't be able to interface with their technology because her SAM can't alter her physiology to make the connection."

"The remnant are not our only problem." What about the vaults? Did he forget the whole fucking mission? "And respect now, is it, when your job is on the line? It's too late for that now. There are consequences, Pathfinder. You disrespected my authority and forced my hand to correct disobedience so that the power structure and chain of command is respected. If necessity and survival did not have a hand in this, you would be charged with treason instead. Consider yourself lucky that I'm well aware of the importance of your SAM."

"Sir—"

"My decision is final. Return to the Nexus. If you cooperate, I will reinstate your authority and may grant you a new team. Dismissed."

 _"Vidcon terminated,"_ SAM announces.

Sara stands slack jawed, brewing with anger. She numbly walks and plops on the couch, head hanging in defeat, fingers gnarling her bangs so that pain replaces the **need** to explode. "SAM, unlock the doors," she whispers, pressing her palms into her sockets when her eyes burn.

 _"Yes, Pathfinder. Also, Gil is almost finished decrypting the transponder, and power to it has been restored."_

"Alright. Thanks for the update, SAM." Sara massages her temples, still desperately clinging for any idea that might snowball into a plan. If they return to the Nexus now, they lose the Archon. He won't stay in the same spot forever. Sarissa isn't equipped to handle him; to be fair, none of them are—but Sara's the only one that will be able to handle whatever remnant device the Archon has in his possession.

They have to go after the Archon. Her crew can't know about this order, or they may be charged with treason for being willing accomplices.

"Hey you..." Peebee; she's fast. The tender tone betrays her personality. Sara doesn't look when the couch sinks beside her. "You look like shit."

"I'm setting a new fashion trend." Sara quips hoarsely, lifting her head to plaster a fake smile for Peebee. Worry burns bright in the asari's eyes. Sara unfolds herself and leans to the side, stealing a quick kiss on the crest. Her mind is made up. "SAM, rally the crew for a meeting here. We need plans and backup plans if we're going after the Archon." She rises from the couch, caught by Peebee as their fingers intertwine.

An undeniable thrill surges through her when the asari whispers in her ear. "We're really doing this, aren't we?"

"We are." Sara squeezes their hands and looks over. "Are you sure you want to follow me?"

Peebee grins mischievously. "Never been more sure of anything in my life." A beat. "Y'know I change my mind a lot right?"

"You always know exactly what to say to reassure me."

-—-—-—-—-—-

"What is that thing doing in here?" Lexi laments, horrified to see the ship's pet pyjak make itself comfortable as it sleeps on Remy's stomach.

"Hm?" Suvi looks up from her datapad, following the doctor's gaze; she smiles at the pyjak. "Oh! Ever since he's followed me in here, he hasn't left Remy's side. Curious. I wonder if he's imprinted on her, or maybe smells something from Kadara that appeals to him? Isn't he cute?"

"Suvi, he needs to leave." Lexi crosses her arms and gives a stern look to stop her colleague's protests in her tracks. "He's filthy and can transmit diseases."

"I already gave him a bath and asked SAM to scan him; he's clean and harmless. Promise!"

The pyjak in question lifts it's head, peering at her with it's big beady eyes—along with Suvi's big beady eyes. Lexi caves and sighs. "Fine. But if he starts to tamper with the machines or eat medication, he will be evicted immediately." She comes up to Remy's side, caught off guard when the pyjak hisses at her, as if to threaten her away. Lexi gives Suvi a flat look, who laughs nervously and cradles the pyjak.

"He's just protecting her."

"As am I. If he interferes with treatment—"

"He won't, I'll make sure of it." Suvi scratches the pyjak's head and kisses it lovingly.

Lexi grimaces; disgusting. There is no way she will ever touch that virus-incubator. "I'm giving you a vaccination after this, Suvi."

"What? _More_ needles?"

"It's for your own good." Lexi scowls when the pyjak hisses at her again. "Aggressive behavior is typically a warning sign of a festering disease."

"Oh, he's just protecting me too. And I _did_ say the scan turned up clear."

"I should run a more thorough check and run a few blood tests just to be sure. After I suit up."

Another hiss.

Suvi chuckles, "now you're antagonizing him on purpose." _Am not!_ "Give it time, I'm sure both of you will warm up to each other."

"He can warm up in the corner opposite to me." Lexi stops Remy's drip and watches the monitors to ensure she doesn't miss the slightest indication of something going wrong; it's all clear, but it's far too soon to celebrate. "Once the medication flushes out of her system, it'll just be a matter of time before she regains consciousness naturally."

"You're taking her off now? Isn't that earlier than you wanted?"

"It is." Lexi sharply turns and heads for her desk, biting her tongue before she reveals the Pathfinder's unethical decision, and why Lexi is speeding things up to avoid carrying out such a decision. "But she's recovered earlier than I predicted"—at least that isn't a lie—"and the quality of her recovery now depends on rehabilitation to facilitate nerve healing." She sits down and smiles when she looks at her hopeful colleague. "It will help immensely if you can free up your schedule and be here as often as you can. I'm certain she'll desire to be wherever you are."

"Of course, I'll support however I can." Suvi's loyalty and enthusiasm still surprises the doctor to this day; she's curious as to how Remy's commanded it.

Apparently—according to the pyjak—it appears to be some sort of innate and instinctual ability, being able to forge bonds.

Lexi reserves her glares for whenever Suvi and the filthy creature looks away, so that the pyjak doesn't catch her and hiss back. Faint music starts to play and the doctor glances over, smiling at the sight of her colleague bouncing her foot to the beat. Suvi's entire posture has lifted; her excitement is almost painfully obvious with the way she holds Remy's hand—watching, waiting, probably praying to hurry up. The pyjak's taken it's throne on Remy's stomach again.

Will things turn out okay? Will Sara's plan work? Lexi still has her reservations and doesn't think the asari exile will be so easy to please and appease, with how angry she was in 'Nexus' care. Only time will tell.

 _"Alright guys,"_ Sara announces on the comms, _"we're heading for the Archon's ship. ETA 2 hours. I want everyone at their stations, ready to go. Peebee, Cora, suit up."_

Great. They're heading right into enemy territory for the leader's ship itself. Can this get any worse?

"Lexi? I think Remy's waking up!"

It apparently can.

"Already?" Lexi sighs and braces herself, pushing herself up into standing when her legs lose their strength. She ignores the hissing pyjak as she approaches Remy's bedside. The doctor's faced with a terrible decision, and her mind races to make a choice as she adjusts Remy's bed into sitting, who groans. Lexi squeezes the engineer's shoulder. "Ms. Kedar?"

Remy grunts, and her head lazily lulls to Suvi instead. Lexi glances at the joined hands and concedes to the fact that she's likely not going to get a chance to run tests just yet. She doesn't bother lifting her penlight or start her doctor's schpeel, chuckling when Suvi beams a warm smile; it's reminiscent of the very first time the engineer woke up in this med-bay, back when she was 'exile' to the majority of the crew, except for one stubbornly compassionate woman. Suvi's been here by her side every time, the entire time. Astounding.

"Suvi..." Remy croaks; at least her memory and speech isn't impaired.

" _Welcome back, Remedy._ "

-—-—-—-—-—-

Right. Okay. Remy gets this.

She actually _gets this._

These people are familiar. She'll never forget the redhead. Everything is foggy and the bright lights still hurt to look at. She flinches when the asari flashes a penlight directly in her eye—and this time, she refuses to stay quiet, now that she knows exactly where she is. Lexi keeps asking things, testing things, and Remy follows the instructions to the letter.

It doesn't take as much time; it's not as hard to concentrate either. Suvi looks like she's going to burst into tears any second now. Remy still hasn't solved the mystery of whether or not they're _good_ tears or bad ones, but at least she remembers the S in Suvi's name.

"Ms. Kedar—"

"Ph... Phh... Phhh... Uh..."

"This really isn't necessary. I haven't asked you anything yet."

" _Uuuh...ck..._ " Remy grins cheekily when the doctor gives her a deadpan look, crossing her arms. Her grin disappears when something jumps in front of her face and she yelps, her wailing hand caught by Suvi.

"No! Don't hurt it, he's our new friend!"

Remy blinks and sucks in a deep breath, staring at big black eyes and a long snout. A pyjak? Remy looks at Lexi—who looks _repulsed_ and is keeping her distance—then at Suvi, who has a bright reassuring smile. A thin snake-like tongue flicks over Remy's nose.

Right. Okay. This part?

She doesn't get.

Remy nods to Suvi and taps her forearm, gesturing for omni-tool; it's activated without hesitation, and Remy chuckles. Some things never change.

 _[Okay. What happened to me this time? I want the low down. How long have I been out, and where did the pyjak come from?]_

Suvi exchanges a glance with Lexi, who comes over to read the message. They both smile, but it's off—almost like they're uncertain of what to do or say. Remy's brow knits together in confusion, and she reaches over to point at one particular question: _'_ _how long have I been out?'_ A quick check at her hair shows it still seems to be of the same length, but it could've been cut. Or maybe it has grown? She hasn't really paid attention to it before.

"You've... Been out for a while," Suvi answers hesitantly.

Remy taps at her question again.

Lexi squeezes Suvi's shoulder and interjects. "You've been out for 34 days."

34 days. A little over a month—that's if the Tempest is even using Milky Way Earth's time, however time is even measured anymore. But a month's not so bad. Not bad at all. Just a month. What's a month? That means she's been sleeping with Suvi for a month—bonus points if Suvi's been sitting here by her side this whole time, but that would've driven crazy even the most romantic of individuals. Ah, it was only a month... Well. A little over a month.

Yeah.

Remy gestures for the omni-tool again.

 _[WHAT THE FUCK, LEXI.]_

The doctor pinches the bridge of her nose. "Please don't do this in all capitals again. It's not necessary."

 _[IT IS TO ME. WHAT. THE. FUCK. LEXI!]  
_

Suvi laughs, and the pyjak hops up and down on Remy's stomach. It's cute, but right now, she's in the middle of something **very** important. And then Suvi's arms wrap around her, bringing her in for a tight hug. Remy's caught off guard, her hands panicking as to where to go—she knows where she'd _like_ to go, but something tells her that the time, place, and current audience have to be factored in here. Her brain is still cycling through shock.

Until Suvi mumbles in her neck. "I missed you so much. I'm so glad you're back, Remy."

Something wet touches Remy's neck. She looks up at Lexi, who smiles and walks away to grant some modicum of privacy. It's then Remy notices someone else on the plinth across from her, and it's not the cocky—what was his name? Liam?—guy. It's _Sa'mosa._

Seriously.

What the fuck happened?

Remy's awake. There's a pyjak. Suvi's still here. Sa'mosa's here. The med-bay is intact. Is this actually the Tempest or did Sa'mosa level the ship? There's a pyjak; uh, and the pyjak's humping one of her stumps. She grabs Suvi's arms and gently pushes her away, staring at the pyjak, her brain cycling back into shock.

"O-oh my... It—erm—seems he's _really_ taken to you..." A series of chuckles burst, and Suvi covers her mouth. Her eyes are bright and shining for all the wrong reasons.

Remy steals Suvi's arm, tugging on it to mock humping; she grins when she goads an embarrassed laugh and takes to Suvi's omni-tool. _[He read somebody's mind.]_

Suvi's mouth drops and her eyes widen; she laughs again, shoving Remy's shoulder. "Not mine!"

 _[Are you sure about that? I bet if Lexi wasn't here]_

The omni-tool's taken away and Remy chuckles, gesturing for it to come back. Suvi cradles her wrist and shakes her head. "No way. You are not writing things like _that_ on my omni-tool." Give it time. It won't have to be written. "Do you know all messages are permanently recorded?"

Hm. Good to know.

"I'm still here," Lexi calls out from her station. "Do you two need a separate room?"

"Lexi!" Suvi cries out indignantly, and Remy grabs her wrist before she runs away, pulling roughly to bring Suvi down on her. The poor woman scrambles to break her fall, a hand catching the headboard. Her breath slithers out just as shakily as the first time when Remy slips a hand around her neck, no longer caring about _audience._

She's been out for a month, just like that. Time slips away too easily. Life slips away too easily. One minute she was... On Kadara; fighting for her life, then kidnapped, then seizures. Now she's here. It all feels like it's only been a couple hours. She can't begin to imagine what it must feel like for Suvi.

Remy's face sets seriously, and she gazes into the depths of the turquoise orbs; still as gorgeously clear as the ocean. She grunts in acknowledgment when Lexi mentions something about privacy before slipping out of the med-bay, waiting for Suvi to give some sort of indication of what she wants. Erratic breaths hit Remy's lips, but she never wavers in her stare nor her grip. She doesn't pull closer—doesn't push far away.

One glance up shows Suvi's arms are starting to shake from fatigue. The pyjak's still going strong. Remy shifts her stump a little in hopes to nudge it off, but it just follows; she sighs, smirking only when Suvi's melodic chuckles grace the air. "He _really_ likes you."

And there's only one way for Remy to communicate the same to her; to say she likes to Suvi, to say sorry to Suvi, to _show_ she's worth the month of waiting.

But first. A tap for the omni-tool. Suvi pulls away, already dazed and breathless. Remy swallows her pride before it ventures too far.

 _[You know how traumatic it was when it's the first thing that pops into mind. Lock the doors.]_ She grins devilishly. _[Or Peebee will die.]  
_

Suvi rolls her eyes, but she makes her way to the doors. "You're assuming quite a bit, despite being out for a month." It's hard to read her with her back towards Remy. "How do you know I'm not taken?"

Remy looks at her forearm, then at Sa'mosa. Is it safe to use her own omni-tool? Did they detect and clean out any potential malware? It doesn't seem Suvi's going to be turning around any time soon. Remy frowns, bracing herself for the worst. "I kn-know b-bee... C-c-caussse."

Ugh. She still sounds like a babbling baby. Why couldn't a month have fixed this too? At least sounding out is easier; but her stuttering is more annoying than romantic.

Suvi turns around with a hopeful smile on her face, but she still makes no move to come closer. She shakes her head when Remy waves and urges to come. "Show me how serious you are. You have a lot to make up to me, you know." She takes a step—then takes a step back. Her gaze falls to her hands, fidgeting. "I have a lot to make up to you too."

...For what? She never did anything wrong.

Remy watches the woman on the brink of tears, aching. She pushes herself up into sitting and pushes the pyjak away—who clings to her hand. " _Fuck._ " She tries to shake him off, pushing him away with her other hand—and then he clings to that too. "W-what... The... _Fuck off!_ "

Sweet laughter fills the room, and though Remy would absolutely love to take full credit for it, she's a little preoccupied trying to fend herself off from the stupid monkey. She decides to ignore it—or try to, god that feels so _gross_ —and scoots to the edge of the bed, tearing the sheets off; her plan works and forces Suvi to rush to her. Remy grabs her wrist and pulls her down enough for them to be mere inches away.

"I know be-c-causse you have all-always been m-mm... _Mine._ " Remy slips her free hand behind Suvi's neck, burying in the thick fiery tresses. Oh, how she's been wanting to be this close again, embracing the pleasant flowery scent, feeling the heat emanating from rosy checks. "Suvi." She looks up, desperately hoping she's earned permission by now. "L-let me... Sh-shhow you... What I w-want to say."

And she can _hear_ her heart breaking when Suvi pulls away.

"Remy."

"N-no don't... Go..."

"I'm not going anywhere, Remy. But your... Um... He's marking your bed."

 _What?_

Remy looks down at her other hand, stabilizing her on the bed. A repulsive shudder rolls through her entire body and she groans at the sight of yellow staining the sheets.

"Ugh, ser'ously what the fuck! I'm t-try'n... T'be ro-romantic here!"


	30. Chapter 30

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Author's Note: _Pshhh_ what is this break you speak of Shadow? My heartless cruelty and the characters' astounding bad luck is my main source of amusement :P Thanks as always for taking precious time to share your thoughts, they're a gift and it always makes my day! Hope everybody enjoys this chapter 💓💋 Things are about to heat up!

* * *

"You haven't changed at all," Suvi chuckles, helping Remy—take it as slow as she should and not how she wants—install her legs so that they can change the sheets; especially before Lexi demands to come back inside and witnesses the massacre of her beautifully sterile bay. It will play out like a horror movie.

Suvi's broken from her depressing thoughts when her arm's tapped for her omni-tool. "I don't mind"—she activates it—"but why aren't you using yours?"

 _[Sa'mosa tipped me off, my omni-tool's been hacked and there's a tracker on there. Also, I can't change if I'm sleeping. Did you 'change' me?]_ The engineer waits until Suvi finishes reading and looks up, laughing when Remy bounces her eyebrows and grins when she's shoved.

"Lexi did. She ordered me away because she knew she'd never hear the end of it if you found out otherwise. Your omni-tool's clean now, by the way."

Remy sighs dejectedly. She's _disappointed?_ Suvi would be embarrassed if someone other than a healthcare professional dealt with the... _Dirty_ part of the job. Then again, would anyone be a happy true and tried professional in these matters? Pain flashes across the engineer's eyes when she installs her second leg, and Suvi chastises herself for ever removing them in the first place. She thought it'd be more comfortable.

Right, a person in a medically-induced coma would be an excellent judge of comfort.

Another omni-tool is activated once Remy gets her bearings, typing away. Suvi dons the villain's mantle and gently pushes the engineer's wrist down. "Try talking."

Remy frowns; her gaze pans to her forearm, her crutch. "T—" her face scrunches up in annoyance already. "Ttt... Hanks." Her wrist jerks, but Suvi keeps it down. The engineer looks up with a pleading look, shame in her eyes, and it honestly hurts Suvi to do this to her; but it's for her own good, or she'll never recover.

"Practice makes perfect, Remy—and it seems rest is all that you needed to make talking more fluid." She smiles reassuringly when Remy's eyes scream doubt. "You hear and feel it too, right? It seems like it's less effort now."

"Isss t-t...hat why I was out? T'heal?"

"Mostly because you were starting to experience seizures, and Lexi explained that it was because you didn't have an adequate amount of time to rest properly. Then all the stress on Kadara... Well, you're feeling better now right?" Suvi clasps her wrists, beaming with pride when Remy nods with certainty. Talking truly doesn't seem as laborious or frustrating for the engineer; she looks healthier too.

Frustrating as it was at the time, Lexi made the right call, but now...

What about Sa'mosa?

Questions that will just have to wait. Suvi glances at the med-bay doors, wondering how to convince Remy to stay here while she goes back to her station—as the Pathfinder ordered sixteen minutes ago.

"Suvi?"

"Hm?" All her attention is commanded in an instant. She doesn't want to miss another second. She's already missed an entire month, and then some.

But _duty..._

"C-can I ha...have my clo-oh-thes?"

"Oh. Yes, of course." Suvi walks around the bed, trying to keep her gaze everywhere but on the open slit on the back of Remy's gown.

"Show-shower too?"

"I... I'm not sure about that. We'll have to ask Lexi—"

Remy groans. "S-she won't let-let me do anyth-thing without 'er."

"Okay. I know this isn't the time, but..." Suvi takes out the bagged clothes secured in the cabinet, turning around with pride written all over her face. "I am so proud of you right now. I didn't think you'd actually _try,_ and you're doing so well too." She rushes back around when Remy gives a confused look, and boldly steals a kiss on the cheek. "While you were sleeping, I'd talk as much as I could, and play music when I wasn't around. Lexi thought it'd be a stretch, but it seems it's really helped."

Remy stares. She looks down and takes her clothes, only to stare at them as well; Suvi stands awkwardly, shushing the pyjak when it makes noises, and waits. And waits. And _waits._ Did she say the wrong thing? Has she offended Remy? Embarrassed her?

Worse.

Tears.

Electric blue flickers in both of the engineer's eyes, fading gradually, but staying alight in the previously injured one. This entire woman's body is scarred. Kadara has left nothing untouched, taking everything. It's agonizing just to think about what it must have been like every step, every breath. And the suffering still isn't over.

When the glow pans up to Suvi, she rushes to comfort. "Oh, Remy... Hold on for just a little while longer. The road to recovery—"

"I's'not that..." Remy swipes at her eyes and sets the clothes aside, reaching for Suvi's hands only to falter and fall. "I d-don't... I—I don't k-know..." She looks up, desperate and pleading. "I s-stutter like a bro-broken machine."

So... It _is_ that then, isn't it?

"Every-everyone throws away w-what'sss broken. Too much eff-effort t-to fix. But you... Even when I b-broke us, you search-ched for me. Here you-you are, sssaying you're proud o' me. Why aren't-t you mad?"

" _Mad?_ Of course I'm not mad, Remy." Suvi grabs the engineer's hands and squeezes firmly, pulling in for an embrace—the protesting pyjak gets a stern look to keep quiet before he throws a fit. She smiles when Remy stiffens in her arms and buries her face in the engineer's neck. "I'd never give up because _you_ never gave up, always doing your best no matter what life throws at you." She pulls away, caressing Remy's cheek. "You didn't break anything. You're an engineer; fixing things is what you do."

That brings a little happiness to Remy's eyes, and a genuine smile meets them. "And in-inve'ting."

"And inventing," Suvi chuckles; her hand roams, thumb swiping across the engineer's brow. "I've good news for you too. Those angarans..."

Happiness disappears. The electric glow fades completely.

"You didn't do it," Suvi blurts, rushing to explain when Remy starts to lean back. "Peebee found out, Remy. Video footage. Your turret—" she grabs the engineer's hands and holds sternly when Remy fights to escape. "Listen, _please._ You didn't do it. Someone hacked your turret."

"What...?" Remy stares, dumbfounded. "What..." She sits on her bed, and the scientist bites her tongue before she ruins the moment pointing out that Remy's sitting uncomfortably close to the yellow stains. "I d-don't under-understand." She rakes a hand through her matted hair, closing her eyes as she takes a deep breath. "Then I was-was-was..." Her brow furrows, growling in frustration. "Was... Too l-late..."

Oh. Maybe Suvi shouldn't have dropped this bomb this soon? She stands and fidgets, wanting to cup Remy's jaw and distract her, tell her everything is okay—but then the engineer buries her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Instinct guides Suvi to embrace the lithe woman.

"Oh, Remy..."

What is Suvi supposed to say?

 _"Suvi, please report to your station. Kallo needs your eyes up here."_ Sara announces on the comms, and the scientist chews her lip nervously when Remy lifts her head. A dejected sigh escapes her, and the two look at the door when it beeps.

"C-can I come? Something-thing happening?"

"One moment, I should unlock the door." The scientist briskly walks to the door and unlocks it, smiling sheepishly when Lexi stands there with a dissatisfied look. This is going to shite real soon; Suvi kind of hoped they'd change the sheets before the doctor sees them. Lexi's gaze hones in on the engineer—very highly likely actually the bed—and narrows her eyes. "Lexi~" Suvi lilts as pleasantly as possible. She squirms under the scrutiny of the doctor's intense gaze. "Remy was wondering if she could come with me to my station. Could you clear her, please?"

"I'm afraid not, because now I'm going to need her help." Lexi gestures to Sa'mosa, and Suvi stiffens. The doctor smiles ruefully. "I'm also going to have to ask you to excuse us, Suvi. It may antagonize her if she sees you again."

"You're going to wake her up _now?_ Without Cora or Peebee?"

"They're suiting up for their mission, and they may also antagonize her if she remembers what happened last time." Lexi heads to the asari exile's bedside, stopping the drip and disengaging the pod's barrier. The glass slides back, and the doctor gives Sa'mosa a needle. "We'll be fine now that Remy's awake."

How will that possibly be enough? Sa'mosa was incensed just being in 'Nexus territory'.

"What-what happennned last time?" Remy starts to change out of her gown, and Suvi's eyes widen when she gets an eyeful of her _back._ She spins front, squashing the heat burning under her collar. A pleading look is shot at Lexi to take over because she just doesn't trust her voice right now—or her mind to say what she should be saying.

Unfortunately, Lexi is fixated on something else entirely.

"Your speech has definitely improved, are there any syllables you're having difficulty with? We can—"

"I d-don't know, but-but the stutter's piss-piss-piss—"

"You're doing that on purpose." How does Lexi know? Her observational skills are truly astounding. It's just the stutter, isn't it?

"Am not. Piss-piss-piss—"

 _Ah._

"Yes you are," Lexi deadpans. Suvi covers her mouth, trying to stop herself from laughing, but politeness be damned. She looks behind her, damning herself in the process again. Heat pounds under her cheeks when she gets an eyeful of Remy in her underwear, and curiosity tethers her gaze to the cybernetic legs to see exactly how they're connected to her. She lifts her eyes when the engineer wiggles her fingers in Suvi's line of vision, pointing up at her mouth.

"Piss-piss-piss."

Laughter escapes from Suvi before she can think to restrain it any longer, and she ignores the warmth consuming her face as she turns around and offers her help to the engineer. Remy grins mischievously and sits on the bed to put her pants on, but not before surprising Suvi with a kiss on the cheek.

"M-maybe this stutter isn't so-so bad. Now I can an-annoy Lex-lex-sexiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii."

Lexi sighs. "I should have kept you under." Her face falls flat when she looks at Suvi, who's trying desperately hard—and failing miserably—not to smile. "You're not helping."

"I know," Suvi confesses, "I'm so sorry—but..." She embraces Remy in another hug, aware of how she tenses in it. "I missed you _so_ much."

"I fail to see how such vulgar and childish antics are so charming," the poor doctor groans.

Suvi looks over her shoulder, and exchanges a knowing smile with Remy when Lexi turns away with one of her own.

-—-—-—-—-—-

As soon as Suvi leaves the med-bay, Remy spins—literally spins on a stool stolen from Lexi—eyes bright and eager. "Af-after I talk to S'mosa, can I-I have a shower?"

Lexi arches her brow at the engineer. "Aren't you concerned with how she'll integrate with the ship?"

"Are you kid-kidding? I want one last shower before she kill-kills all of us."

"That's reassuring." The doctor sighs and heads back to the drip, pondering aloud. "I'm not comfortable with it and it's highly unethical... But perhaps we should wait until we're back to Kadara and transfer her to the doctors there, wake her up in familiar territory?"

"Doctors? There's only Ryo-Ry-oh-ta in the slums."

"Fantastic." She should have expected that; or even expect no doctors whatsoever. "So that's not an option."

"Of cour-course it is. She w-wakes up, kills assho'es, de-stresssss. Problem solved."

Lexi stares at Remy, who stares back with a serious face. The doctor crosses her arms. "So that's not an option."

"You stutter-stuttering like me now, doc?" Remy grins playfully, and Lexi shakes her head as she heads to the monitor to check Sa'mosa's vitals. It just might be a _little_ vital to preserving their lives if a psychopathic patient wakes up and attempts to murder them in blind rage. She catches something move in her peripheral vision and glances over, noting how Remy scoots closer to hold Sa'mosa's hand.

It reminds her of the entire month Suvi did the same for the engineer.

Lexi smiles subtly, then turns to the monitors. The drug she injected should rouse the exile faster than it had for Remy, if Sa'mosa had been able to metabolize medication sooner than predicted before. So why isn't she waking up? Her vitals have stabilized and correlate with one who is awake.

Looking over, Lexi starts to suspect something's not adding up. She takes her penlight out of her pocket and comes to Sa'mosa's bedside, reaching for the exile's eyelid.

A hand snaps around her wrist.

Lexi yelps, pulled down by her collar as the exile snarls in her face. "Hello, _Nexus._ " Sa'mosa grins maniacally. "Oops, you fucked up again. No surprise. You assholes will never learn, will you?" She rips the penlight out of her hand, reeling her head back, and Lexi braces herself for the pain if their heads are about to be smashed together. Fear surges through her and her throat tightens, a lump choking off her voice, unable to call for help.

And Sa'mosa stops when she looks at the quiet woman beside her. "Remy?"

"D-don't pretend y'didn't know I was-was here."

Pretend? That's promising, then, as the implications behind Sa'mosa's real intention reveals much. However...

"Can you please release me already?" Lexi croaks, casting a glare at the engineer. "And why didn't you say something to stop her?"

"I wanted to see her head-headbutt ya."

Right. Kadara has obviously festered some disturbing tendencies in this one. Or she has a really skewed sense of humor.

"Wonderful." Lexi rolls her eyes. "Give the only doctor around a concussion."

"We'd be better off after all the shit you put us through." Sa'mosa shoves the doctor back, but keeps the penlight.

Lexi will have to work up the courage to ask for it back—eventually—but when she sees it pocketed, she makes her peace to never see it ever again. Is the exile even conscious of stealing it? She keeps her observations to herself, and makes a pointed look at Remy, who stares back at her as if she's wondering what in the world the doctor's expecting. The two blink exaggeratedly at each other—as if that's an efficient way to communicate.

Sa'mosa groans, pushing herself up. She glares at Lexi when she makes a move to help her patient up, and the exile slaps her hand away. "I've been awake for a while, bitch." Spectacular. A vulgar psychopath. How long has she been pretending to sleep? "I don't need your 'help'." She swings her legs towards Remy's side. "Let me know before she sticks another needle in me and 'unethically' keeps me hostage."

"It was necessary," Lexi explains through gritted teeth, her patience already waning. Fear is instilled back again when the exile shoots a vicious glare over her shoulder; but Lexi stands firm and puts her foot down. "You attacked Suvi without provocation."

"You-you _what?_ " Remy balks incredulously, snapping up into standing. "T-that's why you both-both were nervous..." She crosses her arms as she stares down at Sa'mosa without any fear whatsoever, and Lexi moves out to the side to observe the exile's expressions, making a profile. The way Sa'mosa looks at Remy—and scoffs indignantly, her gaze bowing down—reveals much.

Guilt.

"Who the fuck's Suvi?" Sa'mosa mumbles, "I attacked some Nexus bitch—"

Remy's hands dart forward and grabs the exile's gown, twisting it in her fists, growling. " **Take. That. Back.** "

"She did it to protect you, Remy." Lexi steps forward and lays a gentle hand on Remy's arm. It doesn't escape her notice that using the engineer's preferred name immediately earns a glare from the exile, who scoots close and postures threateningly; she still has the instinct to protect. "She didn't know who Suvi was and she woke up in a heavily medicated state."

Sa'mosa sneers mockingly. "Listen to her, whelp. All that bullshit? It's AKA for: you can't do _shit_ to me. I'll throttle you with my mind before you can spit in my face."

Wonderful, antagonize each other, why don't they. The posture's gone. What a fickle instinct.

"How are you friends?" Lexi sighs exasperatedly, then freezes when they both look at her. "That was not supposed to come out loud."

A pang of fear roots down to her legs and all she wants to do is run when Sa'mosa rises from the plinth, warding Remy's hands off of her. The exile turns and stares Lexi down. Is she about to be stabbed in the jugular with her penlight? Should she go back on her word and tell SAM to alert the Pathfinder? Call for backup? She can't afford to submit, however, or the exile will walk all over her. She steels herself and stands firm, praying Remy will do the sensible thing and actually help her, rather than laugh at her being headbutted.

That resolve wavers when Sa'mosa leans in close to her face, appearing to study her. Lexi jumps in her skin when the penlight abruptly lifts to her view, and curses herself when the exile smirks—satisfied with the reaction she's provoked. She roughly takes the doctor's hand and forces it palm up to return the penlight.

A jerk of her head forward sends Lexi frantically stepping a few paces back. She curses herself again when Sa'mosa's laugh roars in the med-bay. Another one who wants to play games with her; far more threatening ones.

"Cease this at once, this is not Kadara." Lexi demands, "if I feel that my safety is in jeopardy, then—"

"Relax, I got what I wanted." Sa'mosa steps aside and looks at the engineer. "Let's shower before I kill everyone on this ship."

Remy frowns. "F-fine. This way. And you bet-better say sorry to Suvi."

"You ain't the boss of me, whelp. I ain't saying shit and anyone who's Nexus better stay out of my way."

"Do y-you want to show-shower or not?" Remy wrinkles in disgust, waving in front of her nose. "You defin'ly need o-one. You smell like piss." She smirks at Lexi. "Piss-piss."

 _Ugh._ Insufferably childish. Lexi is going to make it her mission to decrypt how in the world Remy's captured an intelligent woman's heart. Suvi must be rescued.

"Huh, yeah, now that you mention it." Sa'mosa sniffs her gown and groans. "I do, don't I? Fine... But you better give me the low down too."

"De-deal." Remy leads them out the med-bay, and Lexi is left behind, watching in disbelief as both her patients—and surprisingly quiet pyjak—walk out on her without a care if they are even allowed to or not. She faintly hears the two bickering down the hall before the doors close, her mind racing to decipher the puzzle Sa'mosa had given her; what did she get that she wanted?

Bloody exiles. Walking all over like they own the place. Lexi marches to her stolen stool and steals it back—the gratification lacking with the engineer not here to witness it, and rolls over to her terminal as she grumbles under her breath. Her authority's been sullied and diminished.

And she let it happen. She knew better, she expected it, braced for it, and she still let it happen.

Worst of all, she hasn't yet determined if Sa'mosa's posturing or not. She's certain of one thing, however.

"SAM, please keep an eye on this 'Sa'mosa T'Lova', especially if she tries to access _any_ of our systems. She's a security risk."

 _"Yes, Dr. T'Perro."_

Lexi turns and stares at the beds. Her eyes widen when she sees yellow stains on Sa'mosa's bed too; but then she remembers something crucial, staying her nerves.

Sa'mosa _did_ smell like urine.

A sadistic smile sweeps Lexi's face, and she hums a tune as she charts her notes.

 _-—-—-—-—-—-_

Infiltrating the Archon's ship is stressful enough. Now she has to rescue another ark.

"Why in the world is the entire fucking galaxy a damsel in distress?" Sara grumbles as she checks around the corner, barely able to hear herself above the fierce pounding of her heart. An entire fleet is aware they're here. A whole ship is looking for them, and for the salarian Pathfinder too. An entire ark could be exterminated to make sure it doesn't fall back into their hands. The risks are nearly enough to make Sara want to puke in her own mouth.

Her shoulder's squeezed and patted. She looks back, nodding to Cora. Peebee's fidgeting with guarding their flank. The stakes are high for all of them. Another check around the corner, and Sara frowns. "It's too quiet. Shouldn't the ship be looking for us?"

"You're disappointed we _don't_ have an army of kett trying to murder us?" Peebee hisses, and Sara rolls her eyes.

"No, not that. It's just... Odd."

"You're right," Cora mutters, stepping out of cover and checking down both hallways. "Nothing. Wouldn't they station a couple guards at the very least? Then communicate with each other if they've spotted us. They're not searching efficiently."

"Guys, _hello~_ it still sounds like you're disappointed that the kett aren't trying to murder us."

Sara sighs exasperatedly and waves at them to shush. "No way but to keep moving forward. We _have_ to find the relic, there's no turning back now. Cora, take point."

"Understood."

Peebee lingers close to Sara, who follows Cora, an uncomfortably dreadful feeling brewing in her stomach. She can't ignore it, tensing when the asari mutters.

"I've got a really bad feeling about this..."

-—-—-—-—-—-

Holy fuck.

WATER.

When's the last time she showered? Besides the last time she showered. It's awkwardly amusing to ponder how Lexi washed her, but this shower is more important right now. It's taking all of her to swallow the bubble of laughter in her chest—again—and still play it _cool,_ when she's everything but. She's so fucking hot she could literally set something on fire.

Or, in this case, putting out one now that Sa'mosa's in the same boat as her. How the hell is the hothead the calmer one of them now?

"Fuck, this feels _good,_ " Sa'mosa purrs, her hands cascading down her ample chest. The engineer tries not to stare—not out of politeness or being bothered by nudity, but because there's a strange part of her that's still guarded around Sa'mosa and Remy just doesn't trust her not to explode.

"Hey, why are you so quiet, whelp? Are you seriously still mad about that Nexus girl?"

"Her-her name's _Suvi._ Y-you know that." Remy tosses a bar of soap the asari's way, sighing. "Yes, I'm mad. She did-didn't deserve it; an' you c-call me the hothead..."

"I was protecting you. You _know_ what Nexus is like, and yet you still can't see that they're manipulating you. You heard that doctor bitch yourself." Sa'mosa uses her fingers to quote in the air, her voice high-pitched and annoying and sounding _nothing_ like Lexi. "It's 'highly unethical' but let's do it anyways. She kept us both under."

"T'heal."

"And me? You think my shoulder really took as long as your brain? She used you. She's still using you. Who's to say your Nexus girl isn't doing the same?"

Remy snaps, marching over and shoving Sa'mosa against the wall, snarling in her face. "Suvi's not-not-not—" she growls, frustrated that she stutters far more when she's flustered. She tries to push past it rather than take a deep breath and calm down. She can't afford to. Not with what Sa'mosa's implying. "N-not... She's _not._ Not l-like that-that."

"How do you know? She bat her eyes at you? Kiss you? Fuck you? They'll do anything to manipulate you. They're **Nexus.** They don't care about us."

"They do! This-this thing with m-my brain, Suvi's been b-by my side th-this whole time. They care!"

"Your brain? Your 'required' surgery? That's drivel they're spewing just to convince you they're the good guys. They fucked our lives, and they fucked you up too." Sa'mosa shoves Remy back and spits at her. "Pathetic. I expected better from you, and instead you fell into their trap. That redheaded whore's got you wrapped around her finger."

Remy's going to explode. She swears she's going to strangle this fucking asshole right here if she doesn't shut her damn mouth. Suvi isn't like that. Lexi isn't like that. She _knows._ She's not being manipulated. She would be able to tell, after being strung along so many fucking times before on Kadara.

...She would be able to tell, right?

Fuck. Another idea in her head, messing with her. She shuts off her shower and storms out without another word, grabbing her clothes and a towel before she escapes into the next room—the crew quarters by the looks of it. She furiously dries herself off, ignoring the dull ache ebbing in the back of her head, hissing when the towel chafes against her sensitive hand. She holds it up, studying the old burn wound. Lexi did a good job minimizing as much scarring as possible.

She cares. Suvi cares. They aren't **Nexus.** They're Tempest. They're the Pathfinder team, the last hope to fix this clusterfuck of a mess. God willing, maybe the Pathfinder will give Remy a second chance and allow her to pitch in somewhere. Maybe, by some miracle, maybe the Pathfinder will even agree to return the kids too.

But Remy doesn't want to go back to Kadara anymore.

Doors hiss behind her, and she stiffens. She says nothing and starts to dress herself, refusing to look when Sa'mosa sighs. "I'm trying to look out for you."

"You d-don't have to," Remy seethes, plopping down on one of the beds to shove her gaudy pants on. The pants this stupid asshole got her. Fuck.

"I do have to." Sa'mosa walks over to her, already fully clothed—in someone's uniform. It looks like Lexi's; where did she get that?

Remy narrows her eyes, confused. "No you-you don't."

"Yes I do." Sa'mosa takes the sweater, shoving it on the engineer, who swats with her hands in an attempt to get the asshole to back off. Her old burned hand is grabbed and prickling buzzes from the rough friction, and she tries to find the sweater's hole to poke her head through. She's freed when she does.

And freezes in her tracks when she's met with a mournful smile.

"On Kadara, you asked me why I'm helping you."

Remy doesn't like where this is going. An ominous feeling weighs down on her chest, especially when Sa'mosa takes a couple steps back, activating her omni-tool.

 _"Hack attempt detected,"_ a robotic voice announces.

"W-what?" The engineer's brow furrows, and her gaze snaps to her arm when her omni-tool turns on of it's own volition. Didn't Suvi say hers has been cleaned?

Emergency alarms go off. Red consumes the room, and Remy's heart surges to her throat when Suvi's panicked voice comes on the comms instead.

 _"We're under attack! Kett have boarded the Tempest!"_


	31. Chapter 31

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Hope you enjoy 💓💋! Sorry for taking so long on this update, I got carried away with Dragon Age again lol. Brace yourself for some angst and politics!

* * *

"Kett boarders? How the fuck did that happen?" Sa'mosa searches for weapons, cussing under her breath. She looks back at Remy, only to find the damn whelp scrambling out of the room and rushes after her. "Hey, where the hell are you going?!"

"Bridge!" They both stop in the hallway, and Remy growls as she barrels down the hallway, past the med-bay. "Shit. I don't know-know the ship."

"Only one way to find out is trial and error. Go," Sa'mosa shoves the engineer aside, readying her biotics. "I'll take point and keep us covered. We need weapons."

"Where do you two think you're going?!" A repulsive voice calls out behind them, and Sa'mosa grits her teeth when fury burns at her fingertips. She wants nothing more than to throttle the doctor for what she's done—but lets Remy take the lead when the engineer turns around. "Get in the med-bay, I'll lock the doors. It'll be safe."

"We've been boarded, genius," Sa'mosa snaps, "only way we'll be safe is if we kill them."

"The others will take care of that. Remy, you—"

"Don't talk to her!" Sa'mosa marches up to the doctor, boiling under her collar when the bitch doesn't show an ounce of fear this time. A ruse. Has to be. She cracked earlier.

"Sorry-sorry Lexi, but I'm going. I want t-to do what I can to help." Remy grabs Sa'mosa's wrists, pulling urgently. "We-we don't have time for this. Let's go."

Doors hiss above their heads, and Remy shoves Lexi into the med-bay as Sa'mosa summons a barrier to protect them from the kett's barrage. She's dragged backwards until the doors close in front of her, and she whips around, her eyes widening at what waits beyond a glass window. And she grins. "Jackpot."

"Jackpot?!" Remy growls, "t-that's the armory, not the bridge!"

"Only way we can save your Nexus girl is if we get weapons, whelp. Let's go."

"Wait." Remy grabs her wrist again, tugging insistently until Sa'mosa sighs and stops in her tracks, turning to the whelp. There's fear in her eyes—eye; the other is glowing brightly. Just what the fuck has Nexus done to her? She frowns when Remy jerks her head to the glass window, where other strangers are already taking the fight to kett. "I-I don't know who they are. Maybe..." She looks, squinting. "Just that one guy there."

"And?"

"What if-if they shoot us?"

"Then they're fucking blind. We're not kett." Sa'mosa rips her wrist away and storms to the door. "Get your shit together. I don't intend to let you drag me to death again, and there's no way I'm dying on a Nexus ship. That's not how I go down. I'd rather space myself."

Remy groans. "I'm t-telling you they are-aren't—"

"I'll judge for myself." Sa'mosa scouts the armory, keeping her sigh to herself when she recognizes the krogan. This is going to be annoying. "Me listening to you has gotten me in your mess in the first place." The things she does because of this hotheaded human, seriously. This has to be karma. "C'mon, weapon locker is at the far right corner. We'll have to sprint." She glances over at Remy's legs. "They work?"

"They do." Remy itches to move and heads for the door, but Sa'mosa stops her and yanks her back. "What-what are you doing? Every second counts!"

"Yeah, and we've got to keep our head on our shoulders or we're dead. I'm not letting you rush in when you're useless in a fight. The fuck are you going to do?" The whelp chews her lip, scanning. She keeps inching towards the door—Sa'mosa groans and relents. "You better think of something once we're in there; and don't blow us the hell up. Let's go. Stick close to me."

As soon as the doors open, gunshots echo and adrenaline buzzes. Sa'mosa grins maniacally as she charges for the weapons locker, drowning out the voices of the others and whoever keeps panicking on the fucking comms. Judging by how scared Remy looks, it's her girl; she drags her into the room after snatching a rifle and shoves Remy against the wall, closing the door.

"Get your shit together and calm down. You're going to shoot someone in the back if you don't clear your head."

"Didn't-didn't you hear the comms out there?" Remy barks, snarling in Sa'mosa's face when she shrugs calmly. This has nothing to do with her; she's been stuck in worse fights, and as long as this ship remains space-worthy, there's a shot she'll survive. "The Pathfinder's down."

Pathfinder? The other annoying puny pup thinking she's alpha?

"Well, we'll join her if we don't fight." Sa'mosa shoves the rifle in the whelp's chest, who throws it aside. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Building." Remy looks around the room, jumping over the couch. "My turret's here, and tons of salvage." Where's the stutter? "We need to get to Suvi." Her hands work as if they have minds of their own, grabbing tools scattered about this trashed place. Sa'mosa's still lost. "If we don't help her get to the router, this whole Initiative's fucked."

"About time."

Remy stops working. Her hands rest on the table, and her head hangs. Her hair blocks her face. Sa'mosa's itching to go back out there and fight, to survive, and she's wasting time babysitting a child who won't stop throwing fucking tantrums. She frowns when the whelp takes a deep breath and dives back into building whatever the hell she's building, staying silent.

"You've changed," Sa'mosa mutters, taking the rifle. She heads for the door and braces herself, conjuring a barrier before she dives back into the thick of chaos. Still silent. She hates this _version_ of the whelp—there's no more bark or bite; no more hothead.

Remy's **Nexus** now. And, given time, she's likely going to end up as a knife in Sa'mosa's back.

-—-—-—-—-—-

As soon as Sa'mosa leaves, Remy engages her omni-tool and opens a channel, uncaring if the kett will hack into her frequency and hear her. She sends a quick message to Suvi; hopefully she'll see it and connect to the engineer's channel. Remy needs to hear her, to coach her on how to maintain the bridge's shields.

But there's nothing. No connection. Utter silence.

" _Fuck..._ " She needs to hurry. There isn't time to build an arsenal of turrets. She takes the one she's fixed under her arm and searches for a weapon, finding her hoverboard instead. Not a second more is wasted as she hops on and engages it, securing her turret in front of her. She can't afford to join the fight. She has to get to Suvi, and the turret will draw attention to her instead.

"What if...?" The board kicks up in the air, and she scrambles to pop open the turret's back panel, rewiring the weapon energy output to the shield generator.

Only one way to find out if it's actually going to work.

Remy rushes out on her board, yelping and kneeling when she's immediately under fire; the bullets bounce away rather than be absorbed. She nearly falls off her hoverboard when it sways erratically, activating her prosthetics' magnetic locks.

A firm arm wraps around her waist. "Get us on that lift, whelp!" Sa'mosa yells, firing her rifle underneath the engineer's armpit. The comms, the others shouting, the kett fire—it's too much. Remy's chest tightens and a headache pounds at the front of her forehead as pressure wraps around like a tight elastic band. "Go, go, go! Do you want to save your girlfriend or not?!"

"I ca-can't move..." Remy rasps, the hoverboard reacting and kicking back towards the armory. The guy she recognizes—Liam—turns and seems to be shouting at her, but the voices bleed out. She watches as if she's outside her body, frozen in fear; Sa'mosa hops off the board and drags her by her wrist towards the lift.

"See?! You're movin'! Now move faster!" Sa'mosa grunts and groans, dragging with all her might—the rifle lays abandoned, the bullets bouncing away. A barrier.

Sa'mosa's helping. She's on Remy's side.

Liam hobbles over, white noise burrowing in the engineer's ears when she looks up on the second level—where they're _going_ —and sees how many kett have boarded. They're all over. The bridge's shielding won't last forever. That Suvi isn't connecting is not a promising sign, and the white noise spikes as she grows nauseous; it intensifies when the lift jerks, and she nearly falls forward when she keels over with the hoverboard still locked to her legs.

"Comms are down!" Liam shouts, "Vetra's holding down the research center, but we need to get Suvi there **now!** "

"Snap out of it, whelp." Sa'mosa smacks the engineer across the head harshly, and her hand instinctively goes to her scar. "It's kett. You know kett. You know how to _kill_ kett. Nobody's a fully qualified exile without driving one down into the ground. Get your shit together."

"Exile is not some-something you q-qualify in," Remy snaps, powering up her board as she pulls Sa'mosa back on it. "Get on, loser. We-we're going to save the Initiative."

"As soon as the lift— _whoa!_ " Sa'mosa hugs the engineer again—much to her dismay—and she knows the asshole is enjoying every bit of this with how close she's breathing down Remy's neck, cussing just behind her ear. The kett dodge as the two shoot forward, not knowing where the fuck they're going; Liam's calls are ignored and Sa'mosa points at the door ahead. "There! Go through there!"

"Where el-else would we go?!"

It's the only frigging door. As soon as it opens, Remy's back tingles and chills surge up her spine, pressure building up from behind. Sa'mosa whips her arm forward and kett are blown off their feet, slamming against walls, breaking consoles. Her rifle kicks against Remy's hip when she squeezes it under her arm, laying down a barrage—along with whoever is firing above them.

"Keep moving, don't stop," Sa'mosa hisses.

 _Where?_ Is what Remy wants to ask, but the asari won't know either. They roll around a holographic table, and chaos chases after them from behind. Remy turns around and searches for a key panel for the door, inputting wrong codes—not like she knows the right one—until the door locks down as a safety measure.

"You two!" A voice from above, and their heads whip up. Sa'mosa trains her rifle on a turian that rushes down a ramp. "We need to get to the bridge, this way!"

"W-who are you?" Remy asks, giving a pointed look behind her so that the asari will stop pointing her fucking weapon at their allies.

"No time, we need to **go.** Stay behind me." The turian charges ahead as she reloads, and Sa'mosa scoffs as she hops off the hoverboard. Remy opens her mouth to protest, but Sa'mosa actually _follows_ and runs up beside the turian. The doors slide open, and Remy nearly lurches, nauseated to see kett firing at a thin pane of shielding protecting the pilot and co-pilot's area. Suvi's not hiding. She's out in the open, working on some sort of panel; she's no engineer. What is she trying to accomplish?

Kett spin around when Sa'mosa and the turian assault them, their shouting lost to the white noise ringing in Remy's ears. The hoverboard bucks, and she yelps when stray bullets chip away at her shields.

"Get out of the way, whelp!" Sa'mosa yells.

"Get Suvi to the router!" The turian shouts.

Black and purple dots swim in the edges of Remy's vision, tunneling in on the scientist. The noise roars in the background, blocking out the gunfire and whatever the hell the kett are yelling. She focuses on Suvi—tries to, _has to,_ unlocking one of her legs from the board to use the jump-jet and thrust her forward. She ducks, narrowly dodging a sword, grabbing the bottom of her board and turning sideways to burn the kett the same way as 'Karma' suffered.

Screams swallow her, surround her, and her vision darkens, her chest tightening. She can't breathe. She can't _breathe._

"Remy!" Suvi calls out, pushing the dots back to the edge. The jump-jet engages and Remy kicks herself straight, rushing to the generated wall. She holds out her hand, but the scientist hesitates. "I-I'd have to disengage the shield." She looks over at the pilot's seat, where a salarian hides. "Kallo—"

" _Go!_ Save the Pathfinder!"

"We-we have to go," Remy urges, biting her tongue when she notices her turret's generator whittling down quickly. The turian and asari won't stop shouting at them, and Remy swears she's going to lose it if she doesn't get out of here _right now._ But then Suvi shakes her head, tears in her eyes, mouthing _'I can't'_ over and over again until it grows from a whisper to a shout.

"I can't!" She looks up at Remy with pleading eyes, stepping away from the shield. "I can't leave him!"

" _For fuck's sake,_ " Remy growls, pulling a wire out of her turret. She glides over to the wall, tapping a spot. "Sa'mosa, _dent!_ " The asari charges forward, reeling back a fist. She punches just inches away from the wall, and the plate crumbles under the invisible force of her biotics. Remy peels the plate away, yelping when a massive kett tackles Sa'mosa, slamming and choking her against the generated wall. Remy grits her teeth, bracing herself as she reaches for one of the Tempest's wires—with only her omni-tool as an uncertain means of protection.

Electricity sparks when she unplugs a wire and connects her turret, causing the shield-wall to short-circuit when it's power is fed to her instead. Sa'mosa's released, falling, slipping out from underneath before the kett crushes her. The turian rushes forth and impales her omni-blade into the back of it's head, and Remy doesn't wait for them to clear out the other two kett firing at them. She grabs Suvi—who resists with all her might.

"Suvi, you need to **go!** " The turian shouts. "The Pathfinder will die if you don't fix SAM's router!"

"No," Suvi still tries to fight, but Remy locks her legs down on the hoverboard and wraps her arms around the scientist as tightly as possible, surging for the exit. "No, no, _no!_ Let me go, Remy." Suvi launches her head back, smashing into the engineer's nose, who yelps and nearly topples over with the scientist hanging offside, making it harder to adjust the thrusters to keep balance. Especially with Suvi fucking kicking her legs everywhere. "Let. Me. Go! _Kallo!_ "

"Router," Remy growls, groaning as pressure swells inside her nose, making her sound nasal-y. Blood leaks out and it's all she tastes, making bile crawl up to her throat. "Wh-where's the router?" She barely dodges another headbutt, and abandons the hoverboard when they make it back to the research center, hopping off when she disengages the thrusters. She lets Suvi down on her feet to spin her around, pinning her to the wall. "Stop! Fighting! I under-derstand it's hard to leave h-him behind, but _we're **all**_ _fucked_ if the Pathfind-finder dies! Where the fuck is the router, Suvi?!"

Guilt crashes down when tears streak down the scientist's face, the blue eyes shining brighter, widening in fear of her outburst; this is not how Remy wanted to be reminded of water. She frames Suvi's face, ignoring the way her hands shake uncontrollably. "I'm sor-sorry for yelling at you, but we have—"

Suvi rips away, marching up the ramp with purpose. She's shaking just as badly. Remy follows quietly, guilt-ridden for snapping, watching over Suvi just as much as she's watching the bottom floor to see if any kett break through—not that she can even _do anything_ about it. She rushes down to collect her turret, gaze flickering to assess the damage done to the center. She can only hope the drive core remains unscathed, or they're all screwed if they can't get out of here.

Remy sets her turret up on one of the couches, propping it up higher with datapads and what looks like a broken coffee machine so that the gun peers over the railing. She steals a glance at Suvi, holographic screens with numbers and code on top of code surround her as she reprograms the router.

How long has the Pathfinder been down? _Why_ is the Pathfinder down? Will this work? Are they too late?

One question after another chips away at hope and Remy grits her teeth when Suvi _still won't stop crying._ The engineer closes the distance in swift strides the moment all the screens disappear, and a robotic voice rings out.

 _"Router, engaged. All comms open. Stimulating the cardiovascular core."_ Cardiovascular core? What? _"Zero activity. Stimulating the cardiovascular core. Zero activity."_

"We didn't make it," the scientist mutters, turning to Remy with a look of horror on her face. "We didn't... The Pathfinder..."

Remy catches Suvi when her legs give out, holding the woman as tight as possible as she breaks down sobbing, making sounds _no human_ should ever make.

Worst of all, the engineer doesn't know what to say. Things aren't alright. They're screwed. The Pathfinder's dead. Voices from all the comm channels flood the research center; the asari freaking out—Peebee—is the only one she recognizes. Remy nervously looks at her turret when she hears it stir, firing a couple shots. Suvi jumps in her arms, and Remy pushes the scientist down on to the ground to shield her. The turret explodes, pieces fly, the engineer nips the flesh of her cheek to stay silent when some whip at her back.

" _Rem_ —" a hand slaps over Suvi's mouth, and Remy shakes her head.

 _"Stay quiet."_ She mouths silently, both holding their breaths and trying to listen to whomever's invaded the research center, and if they're coming up.

It's impossible to hear, with everybody yelling on the comms; and then it goes deathly silent when someone gasps.

 _"That's twice now that I've come back from the dead."_

Suvi breaks free of Remy's hand, excitement carrying the volume of her voice. "Remy! The Pathfinder's _alive!_ "

Something whirs to life, winding rapidly. Remy glances over her shoulder. An anointed—aiming it's weapon at them. The engineer scrambles, frantically pulling on Suvi's hand as they run for the ramp, both yelping and diving down when the kett fires. Momentum forces them to slide all the way down, unable to stop and get up in time to retreat from the kett that appears at the top of the ramp, revving it's gun again. Remy rolls over to shield Suvi with her body, silencing the scientist with a kiss; one last kiss, one last time.

If only Suvi didn't taste of tears—if only Remy kept her fucking cool. She failed the only woman who treated her like she might be worth a damn. Render judgment; retribution. She asked for it the moment she snapped. She deserves to be snapped.

Shots echo in the center. Remy steels herself for the pain.

Only darkness comes.

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Why the _fuck_ do I have to jinx everything?" Sara growls, sprinting down the halls while trying to ignore the way her stomach lurches every single god damn step. "Can just one thing go right today? Is that too much to ask for?" Anger boils in her blood, searing through her veins. She feels like she's going to choke and suffocate and the fucking helmet keeps forcing extra air down her throat. She doesn't want air. She wants to _come up_ for air; she wants—"first dad's lucky rock, and now this bullshit! I curse everything I so much as fucking _look_ at!"

"What are you talking about?" Peebee catches up with her, grabbing her elbow to stop her. "Hey, slow down. Your vitals—"

"We can't afford to _slow down,_ or we lose _everything._ " Sara tears away, ignoring the worried looks Peebee and Cora give her. "The Tempest is under attack. The salarians are under attack. Everybody is fucking dying and I jinxed it; Gil is probably laughing sarcastically all 'I said shit, this is dangerous, and the Pathfinder was all la la la only if we die!' And now—"

"You can't afford to lose it," Cora interjects sternly. "The team needs you. We need to get what we came for and get back to the Tempest, stat. Every second counts."

" _Fuck!_ " Sara raises her leg and slams her heel against the wall, kicking it again and again. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ I should've listened—"

"You should be listening, yes. You need to calm down, Sara. Listen to me." Cora steps in, and Peebee shakes her head behind the lieutenant. Sara almost gives it all away—blurt that it's not _Cora_ she should be listening to—but bites her tongue, grimacing when she draws blood. "We can make it, but we have to move _now._ Or we'll lose everything—not just the artifact, not just the ark, and not just the Tempest. We'll lose the _entire_ Initiative if we fail here and now."

"No pressure," Sara grumbles, ripping her helmet off—only to find it harder to breathe without life support forcing extra oxygen into her. She shoves the helm back on and takes deep gulps, calming when Peebee tentatively takes her hand.

"I'm with you every step of the way, Ryder. No matter what happens next." Peebee smirks crookedly. "Still haven't changed my mind."

There's something in her eyes—something that makes Sara believe.

"Deep breath," Cora says, taking one herself. She readies her gun and pats Sara's shoulder as she passes by. "I've got your back, Pathfinder."

Yeah.

For _now._

-—-—-—-—-—-

Particles flicker to life as a hologram struggles to piece itself together. Sara stands ready, clasping her wrists behind her as she prepares herself for what's about to come. She exhales slowly, gaze flickering over the shoulder of the hologram to the asari watching from the shadows. Peebee gives a small wave and puckers her lips in an exaggerated kiss—Sara tries not to laugh, and it finds a crack in the mounting tension.

"Ryder." Director Tann's clipped voice resounds clearly, even if the image of him is not.

Sara sucks in a quick breath. "Director Tann."

"My condolences, the Tempest crew has my sympathies." Sure they do. "To the point: I would like to hear your explanation as to why you have disobeyed a direct order. I would also like to know why you have chosen a few krogan scouts over the life of _Pathfinder Raeka._ Were you so determined to spite me that you prioritized—"

"Director Tann, with all due respect, I prioritized the lives of the krogan because if Pathfinder Raeka—who was undoubtedly far more skilled than I am—was unable to rescue her people, then I knew I had no chance. The Archon was also close to figuring out how to exalt krogan. I'm sure I don't need to remind you the calamity that _un-exalted_ krogan had almost brought down on the Milky Way before the salarians intervened and invented the genophage."

Perhaps she's fed up, perhaps she's just stone cold—but she comes dangerously close to blurting of the salarians' short life spans. Raeka would have maybe 20 years left, that's hardly a contender compared to a krogan's century; but what if those 20 years could have secured the future of the Initiative?

Doubts are forced out. She can't afford to, as a leader—or she'll drive herself insane if she drives herself back into that hole, doubting her every ability and every decision.

Sara reigns in her tongue and tames the desire to lash out when she glances at Peebee, to renew her resolve, to remind herself why she defied Tann in the first place. Her gaze pans back to the hologram. Venom coats the tip of her tongue, painful thoughts collected for this day. There's no choice left. No way out. Behind her, nails dig into her wrist, trying to relax her jaw as she forces the words out.

"I will surrender the Tempest and the ship's crew to Pathfinder Sarissa Theris, effective immediately. I have already notified her and secured a shuttle for myself, and will—"

"Ryder. You have worked these arrangements out based under the assumption that the consequences would remain the same regardless of which order you disobey."

Here it comes.

"And if I recall correctly, I have warned you that you would be charged with treason instead. I cannot allow this to stand—however, I will still give you a choice. When you surrender the Tempest, the shuttle can escort you to Kadara and you will therefore be considered as a disgraced _exile._ If you choose to return to the Nexus instead, you can take your chances and be tried by the council of Directors for treason. However, as leader of the Initiative, I have the final say." Which means he won't listen to others and would rather martyr her. "Consider your options carefully."

God, it hurts so much more to _hear_ it than to imagine even worse things coming out of Tann's mouth.

Sara bows her head, nipping the flesh of her cheek to stop a smile from growing. "I understand. I will head to Kadara."

"As I suspected you would, given your recent _affiliation_ with exiles." At least the one nice thing about getting kicked off is that Sara won't have to worry about being spied on anymore. "The last one currently in the crew will also be removed from the Tempest—Pathfinder Theris has permission to use force if this Sa'mosa T'Lova resists. I suggest you inform your associate the consequences, especially if they try to follow your example."

"Understood." Now for the hardest words she'll ever have to say. " _Thank you_ for your kindness and mercy, Director Tann." She lifts her gaze. "I wish the Initiative all the best."

"If you were sincere, you would have listened in the first place. Then you wouldn't have lost a member and the Tempest wouldn't have incurred such expensive damages."

 _"Vidcon terminated,"_ SAM announces.

"Thank you, SAM." Sara lets out a breath she didn't even know she held—all for the best, to hold back what she really wanted to say. "I don't know how much longer I could have listened without biting my tongue off. He gets way too smug when he thinks he's right." She wastes no time and weaves past the debris to make it to Peebee. "Last chance. Are you sure you're ready to do this?"

"Hell yes." A lopsided grin graces her face. "Cora can take over Pathfinder ass-kissing duties now." She tugs Sara's hand. "I've still got this Pathfinder's ass to kiss."

-—-—-—-—-—-

Suvi stares at the glass pod housing the lifeless body, all wounds tended to with surgical precision, courtesy of Lexi. The good doctor's taken up the mantle of keeping the other asari exile out of the med-bay, with the aid of Drack and Vetra to keep the exile from freaking out and wrecking more havoc.

Eyes dried of tears, Suvi runs a hand along the pod. The numb question—one asked over and over and **over** again because she still can't believe it—is asked one more time.

Maybe by some miracle, SAM will change his answer.

"SAM, identify the woman inside pod B, please."

 _"Remedy Kedar. Mechanical Engineer. Designation number: G-66-Archimedes."_


	32. Chapter 32

**The Lucifer Effect  
** Hope you enjoy 💓💋 I would never break our hearts! Not without stitching it back together :) Thank you as always for taking the time to review DRWPJT and Shadowbroker11, your support means a lot to me! I promise you can rest easy with this chapter! Hang in there!

* * *

This is it. It's the last announcement she'll make to this crew—and they know that. They know what she did, how she disobeyed Tann's order. She couldn't willingly blindside them and pretend to be ignorant; it surprised her when they _still_ supported her decision. How and when did she command such loyalty, after all the decisions she's made? Sara runs her hand along the panel, glancing behind her. Peebee gives a reassuring smile and wave. Sara takes a deep breath and activates the system-wide comms, closing her eyes, savoring every word.

"This is your Pathfinder speaking." Emotion lumps in her throat, and she tries to clear it subtly. "Today has been cancelled, go back to bed." Her cheek dimples and she smirks when Peebee sniggers behind her, enabling her, and Sara can only imagine the faces everybody is making. "Don't give up on your dreams and keep sleeping. That is all."

This is it. _This is it._ The three hardest words she knew she wouldn't be able to say without feeling _something._

"Pathfinder Ryder, out."

Every thought, every memory, rushes through and breaks down the flood gate when she turns the comms off. She bows her head and squeezes her eyes shut even tighter, trying to hold it all back. But it burns. It burns behind her eyes, burns in her throat, burns in her chest. Her shoulders shake and she slaps a hand over her eyes in shame when she feels arms snake around her waist.

"You did good," Peebee whispers.

Sara chews her lip, kicking herself for how wobbly and hoarse she sounds as her throat—raw and parched—forces out the doubt that's chipped away at her since the beginning.

"But was it good enough?"

-—-—-—-—-—-

Sa'mosa paces in front of the med-bay, waiting for the moment she's allowed back inside. That's all she wants. She needs to see it with her own eyes—needs to see if her friend really is dead, after all this time. Stupid, stupid, _stupid._ Sa'mosa was supposed to be there for her, protect her, redeem _herself;_ instead, she failed the whelp.

She failed Remedy.

It isn't supposed to hurt this much. It never hurt this much. Her head hurts, pounding, and she runs a hand along her crest as she counts seconds to remember how much time has passed—to know how long the whelp's girlfriend has been in there for. But then she forgets. She forgets how many seconds she's already counted—3000? 4000? Has it been less than an hour or more?

Posturing set aside—abandoned, _forgotten_ —she turns to the asari doctor. "How much longer?"

"As long as Suvi needs."

Fuck.

 _Fuck._

Can't she grieve faster? That's totally reasonable, isn't it?

Sa'mosa failed her too.

That shouldn't hurt. It never hurt.

But the Nexus girl clearly means—meant, Goddess, _meant_ —a lot to the whelp. And the whelp means—mean **t** , Goddess, _one fucking letter_ —a lot to Sa'mosa.

Remedy is the only one that looked and spoke and treated her like she was worth a damn; like this Initiative—their _dreams,_ still alive—was worth _something_ to salvage. Spiraling, Sa'mosa comes close to the med-bay's doors. The krogan blocking, guarding, shakes his head, and it makes her want to _explode_ and rip into him the way his kind ripped into her friends on the Nexus; but his voice, low and deep and _gentle,_ grounds her. "You'll see her soon, kid."

Not soon enough. Sa'mosa didn't get there soon enough. She should've abandoned the turian and salarian the moment Remedy left the bridge with her stupid girlfriend on her stupid hoverboard to fix some stupid router and save some stupid Pathfinder—who isn't even the _fucking Pathfinder_ anymore.

Stupid hothead died for **nothing.**

Nothing's changed. The Initiative is still fucked and fucked up—their dreams, still dead—and is worth nothing to salvage.

Maybe it's a good thing Remedy died. She probably would've done it herself anyways if she woke up right now and found out about all of this, see her dreams and hopes crushed with her own eyes—crushed again and again and _again._ Death is a mercy. It's going to come for them all, eventually, anyways.

Hollow steps echo on the ladders. Sa'mosa looks over, snarling at the sight of the puny human who dares show her face here. Energy shoots down in the asari's arm, collecting in her hand, and she clenches it into a tight fist. There's nothing worth saving herself anymore. Nothing worth living for. She can't go back to Kadara, she can't do this anymore. She's lost the only person who made her believe that holding on to hope for long enough just might save the day.

"How is she?" The not-Pathfinder asks, twisting and holding out her hand when another asari slides down the ladder. A wildfire is stoked inside of Sa'mosa when she watches their fingers intertwine. That's what Remedy should be doing with her stupid fucking Nexus girlfriend and she can't because she sacrificed herself for this fucking stupid _bitch._

"You've got some nerve, asking that!" Sa'mosa seethes, marching with her biotics manifesting in every nook and cranny of her body. The puny human holds up her hand and dismisses the others from intervening, not budging even when Sa'mosa reels her fist back. It'd be _so easy_ to rip her apart with biotics.

But her fist stays in the air of her own volition. Her biotics— _gone._ Willingly.

Emotion tightens in her throat. Emotion she thought was long since dead and buried, emotion she thought she made _sure_ she buried. Now it's dug out of it's grave, exposing her, and she can only imagine how many vulnerabilities the doctor is flagging right now.

"Fucking bitch," Sa'mosa spits at the not-Pathfinder's face, jeering when the asari behind her tries to come at her until the turian grabs her. "Joking on the comms, talking about dreams. Remy gave up hers for _you._ It's not enough that Nexus already took our dreams away from us—you had to take her life too. She put all her fuckin' faith in you, thinking you're gonna save us. She saved you. Her girlfriend saved you. Then you come here, all casual, asking how she is? Remy's d—" her voice abruptly dies, fading out into nothing. She can't say the word.

Dead.

Remy's...

Remedy is...

Calm and cold, the human says nothing. It pisses Sa'mosa off. She needs a rise, she needs a hothead. She whips around the moment doors hiss open, revealing the redhead—with red eyes. Sa'mosa doesn't waste another second and marches into the med-bay, her stomach lurching at the sight of monitors displaying Remedy's vitals.

Flat line. No readings. This isn't a dream, it never was. This is a _nightmare._ Today is a new level of hell, the kind of torment Sa'mosa thought she protected herself from. Numb, she walks to the glass pod encasing the whelp like she's some sort of fucking specimen.

"You're a specimen, alright," she grumbles bitterly, "a real piece of work, darling. Maybe that's why the doc's trigger happy with her scalpel."

Dragging a stool over, Sa'mosa sits beside the pod and rests her hand on the glass—where a small handprint already exists. "I'll apologize to your girlfriend; Suvi's her name, right?" She steals a quick glance at the doors when she remembers she didn't hear a hiss, melting with relief to see them closed. There's a security camera above the door—she's always known she's being watched, though. She rests her forehead on the glass to try and be as close to Remy as possible. There's wires sticking out of her clothes, hooked up to the vitals machine.

"You were supposed to die by blowing yourself up, idiot... Why the hell did you go and try to be a hero?" The world starts to turn misty. Her breath shudders out of her, and her gaze fixates on the handprint she's smearing. "I'll look after her for you."

Something moves in the corner of her eye, and her biotics buzz in her hand at a moment's notice—but it's just a pyjak. She stares, dumbfounded, watching as the monkey casually climbs up on the glass pod and...

Pisses.

Like a waterfall, the urine cascades down the sides of the pod. Sa'mosa hastily takes her hand away, watching the handprints wash away in disbelief. She doesn't know whether to laugh, cry, or _strangle_ the monkey for defiling her friend this way; but laughter suddenly bubbles in her chest, and she throws her head back as it tears out of her—just as tears, _good and bad,_ roll down her cheeks. "Wish you saw this, I'd _kill_ to see the face you'd make!"

Something else moves in the corner of her eyes, and her head snaps to the monitor. Nothing. Just more wires. Her heart desperately wished it, her mind imagined it for her; it hurts even more to confirm over and over and _over_ again that...

Remedy is **dead.**

-—-—-—-—-—-

"Pathfinder." Sarissa nods courteously, eyes flickering to Cora—who's the iciest Sara has ever seen. She shoves her worries to the back of her mind and waves dismissively.

"Sara or Ryder, please. I'm unworthy of the title of Pathfinder."

"Yet Lieutenant Harper has not been transferred to be human's next Pathfinder," the asari notes, clasping her wrists behind her as she meets Cora's gaze more readily. "I trust there will be no issues in you serving as my Second aboard the Tempest?"

"No issues, ma'am." Cora forces through clenched teeth. She glances at Sara. "I rejected Tann's offer to transfer me as the next Pathfinder."

So he made one? That's surprising—just as surprising as Cora _willingly_ declining it. Is it because she suspects Sara is up to something, or because untangling SAM will kill her?

"I see." Sarissa steals a quick look over her shoulder, then steps closer to Sara, lowering her voice. "I still won't pretend I know what you're thinking, Ryder, but watch yourself out there. If you've planned something, the Director knows about it. He told me there are bugs on the Tempest; and a mole."

" _What?_ " Cora balks incredulously, and Sara chuckles.

"I know all that already," she shrugs, "but what I don't know is if the mole is spying on purpose or not."

"Who's the mole?" The lieutenant crosses her arms, frowning when Sarissa and Sara exchange looks. It's too soon to tell whether this asari can be trusted—especially after her own betrayal. Who knows if she's just wrangling this information just to sell Sara out? To get revenge for publisizing her own secret? Honestly, Sara can't say she'd blame Sarissa if she did carry a personal vendetta. Hopefully she won't take it out on the crew.

"I suspect it's Liam. He knew there were _two_ exiles aboard our ship even when he was stuck in med-bay, when he had only met Re... The deceased exile: Ms. Kedar."

Silence stretches, and Sarissa sighs as she pats Sara's shoulder. "I read the report; and I can relate to your decision. You did what you thought was best, Ryder."

Relate? What would she—

...She _would_ know. She chose a relic over a life, just as Sara prioritized the remnant relic over returning and reinforcing the Tempest as soon as possible.

Cora scoffs, but it's quiet. Halfhearted. A pilot jogs up to them and salutes. "Ma'am!" His eyes wander to Sarissa, then Sara—unsure of who to report to. "Shuttle preparations are complete, but we still have ten minutes before we're cleared for take off..." Guilt trickles into his features and he shuffles uncomfortably when Sara's gaze narrows on him as he mumbles. "You may wish to say goodbye to your crew."

"That's not necessary. I'm sure none of them want anything to do with me after I fucked them all over."

"Ryder... You didn't do anything of the sort." Cora's soft reassurance almost tugs at the heart strings— _almost._ Sara has to keep it together.

She can't afford to lose it. The team needs her now.

Every second counts.

Sara cards a hand through her hair, forcing a weak smile as she offers a handshake to Cora. "It's been a pleasure working with you, Lieutenant Harper. Keep up the good work, and always trust your gut. I still have faith in the Initiative's success because I know it's filled with soldiers like you and Pathfinder Theris." She then offers her hand to Sarissa, squeezing it harshly as she comes inches away from the asari's face, her smile replaced by a snarl. "Sacrifice anyone on my crew for a piece of intel, and I will hunt you down like the Decimators and _so help me **god** , _I will make sure you _beg_ me to kill you."

"Ryder!" Cora pulls her away, shaking her by the shoulders. "Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?"

"It's fine, Lieutenant, release her." Sarissa smirks haughtily, marching towards the Tempest with cool composure. "Don't worry, Ryder. I'm not as crazy as you."

Is this the right decision?

There are a whole lot of things that can go wrong, and Sara is working off nothing but a hail mary. She watches the asari pathfinder disappear and counts the seconds in her head, then rips away from Cora and takes off for the Tempest, ignoring the lieutenant's calls. The moment the airlock opens, she makes a beeline for Peebee, leaning against Suvi's chair, _waiting._ Sara moves in for a goodbye kiss, but the asari slaps her, snarling vehemently.

"Stay away from me. After what _you_ did? You fucked everybody over. You're lucky I don't crush you with my biotics."

"Hey!" Sarissa shouts, stomping away from the panel and storming towards Sara. "You're no longer authorized to be on the Tempest, _exile._ Get off my ship!"

Exile.

 _Exile._

It hurts to hear, even if she told herself in her mind over and over and over again to get used to the term. She's no longer Pathfinder Ryder; she's Exile Ryder. What will Scott think when he hears about all of this? Hopefully he'll decline the offer of being the next Pathfinder... And it drives the point home: Sara's living on borrowed time. It's not just the future of the Initiative at stake anymore, but her life too.

Without another second wasted—satisfied with the _performance_ —she storms out, bumping hard into Cora's shoulder to add a dramatic flair.

On the way to the shuttle, she smirks devilishly. Her fingertips buzz and she activates her omni-tool. A message from an unknown sender.

 _[Good show. That slap looked real.]_

Sara rolls her eyes. "Definitely _felt_ real. I think she likes slapping me more than kissing me."

 _-—-—-—-—-—-_

"Dr. Anwar." Lexi announces as she enters the bio lab, stifling a frown and maintaining— _hiding behind_ —a veneer of professionalism as she approaches the scientist hunched over a microscope. It doesn't take a psychologist to figure out that the grieving woman is using work to lose herself, focusing on slides of samples rather than thoughts and memories.

"Dr. T'Perro," Suvi returns evenly; voice hollow, devoid of the usual exuberant cheer and passion. Lexi hates this. Hates what she's about to do—about to give.

"I have something for you. A... Datapad. I thought you may want it. Pathf—Ryder also requested me to pass a song on to you." Lexi waits patiently when Suvi doesn't lift away from the microscope right away; when she does, it just twists the knife in the doctor's heart. There are dark circles and imprints of the microscope sunken around Suvi's eyes.

It's no secret she hasn't been sleeping, up at all manners of hours regardless of day or night cycle. At least the current Pathfinder has recognized and respected the need for time to grieve; though that may only have been given thanks to the new SAM Suvi programmed into the router, handling all manner of tasks to keep the Tempest running smoothly. Even during chaos, the woman has helped the crew transition to some semblance of calm.

She deserves a peace of mind herself.

"What song?" Suvi asks; it's clear she already knows what the datapad may contain.

"It's attached." The doctor waves the datapad, trying to provided answers as vaguely as possible. "To this."

Lexi stands, trying not to feel awkward when the scientist just stares at her with a blank look. There's no spark in her eyes. She's just sleepwalking through life, and it honestly _hurts_ to hold back the words Lexi dearly wants to say. But she can't. It's not _safe_ to. She made a promise—trying to think of it as upholding her oath she's sworn to as a doctor—and she cautiously closes the distance. To hell with professionalism.

"I would like to hug you, Suvi. May I?"

...No answer.

Suvi's gaze pans to the datapad in Lexi's hand. "I don't know if I can look at that right now. I still have the images of them taking her—" her voice chokes off, incoherent words fading in and out of existence as she desperately fights through the emotion. Lexi damns permission too, and comes in to wrap her arms around Suvi in a tight embrace. She buries her mouth in the woman's hair—curiosity marveling at the texture of human hair—hushing as quietly as possible, praying it won't be picked up by any audio mics in here.

"Trust me, Suvi. I would not approach you with this— _now_ —otherwise." She tries to pull away, but Suvi's arms lock down on her. Lexi rubs soothing circles along the scientist's back, a piece of her twisting and hurting with Suvi when a cry is muffled in her shoulder.

Eternity passes before Suvi finally relents, wiping her eyes as she bows her head in shame. "I apologize, I thought I was... I-I'm sorry. That was unprofessional."

"It's more than okay, Suvi. You have nothing to apologize for. I'm here for you any time—my shoulder is yours." Lexi reluctantly steps back, making a show of the datapad again. She raises her voice, praying with every fiber of her being that the scientist will understand what she truly means. "This will help you move on and help the Pathfinder."

Which Pathfinder? Move on to where? That's for Suvi to discern; but righteous anger flashes by her glossy eyes, a spark revived. Her jaw tightens and her mouth opens to protest—but something stops her, and she decides against it.

Lexi doesn't know what, but she's counting it as a much-needed blessing and hopes it's _screaming_ in every part of her body language. She clicks her heels together and pivots sharply to leave the bio lab, waving over her shoulder, crossing her fingers inside her mind. "I will put in a request to see if it is possible to get footage of Ms. Kedar's burial. Ryder said she will see to it personally that Remedy's memory will be honored." She stops, lingering at the door. It hurts to hurt a colleague—a **friend** —like this.

But she's a doctor. This is what she must do.

"Don't bury your feelings, Suvi. It is natural to grieve; it may feel like it, but it will not break you. Allow yourself time to mourn no matter how much it hurts."

Silence, for a moment.

Suvi barely chokes out the words in a quick breath. " _Thank you,_ _Lexi._ "

Lexi smiles hopefully as she leaves. She's done the best that she can.

The rest is in the Pathfinder's hands.

-—-—-—-—-—-

Music plays in the shuttle, courtesy of Sara's omni-tool. She relaxes her head against the bulkhead and shuts her eyes to erase the image of Sa'mosa glaring at her for the entire trip. She'll be lucky if she doesn't get flung by biotics the moment her foot touches Kadara's ground; she must win the exile over on her side. Her entire plan—god help them _all_ —rests on Sa'mosa's shoulders, an asari who has made it abundantly clear that she would rather kill herself than work with Nexus.

But Sara isn't Nexus anymore; and Lexi—despite patient confidentiality—found ways to slip extremely promising hints that shed light on what kind of woman Sa'mosa is. Trade snarky barbs, perform a couple sketchy jobs, and slam Nexus. _Easy._ Sara breathes barbs, does sketchy jobs every waking minute, and has plenty of ammunition for the Directors. Load the cannons, it's time to bring out her fucking arsenal; she's been waiting too long.

The only issue? Sa'mosa's just lost the only person she was remotely connected to. Lexi didn't have enough time to assess the extent of the trauma and if it's affected the asari exile psychologically, pushing her ever closer to a potential psychotic break.

 _Psychotic break_ may as well be a synonym for _Sara's death._

Fortunately, there's nothing Sara hasn't planned for; plan D's and E's exist in case if B and C fails. She taps her omni-tool to play the next song, opening her eyes to bring up and look at a picture of Peebee. Her gaze snaps to Sa'mosa when the asari scoffs, crossing her arms—her glare screams killing intent without a doubt.

"Landing zone in sight," the pilot announces, "ETA five minutes."

Oh.

Well, then.

Time to skip straight to plan D—don't die by any means necessary.

"I know you're waiting until we get off before you let loose with your biotics." Sara shuts the music off, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. "All I ask is to wait until we bury your friend. I can watch your back, or dig the hole, and make sure nobody tries to rob her shit in the casket."

"Grave robbers won't care," Sa'mosa spits vehemently, and then for a fleeting second, Sara _swears_ she sees a measure of guilt. Then the eyes empty. "I'd know."

"She doesn't have anything but clothes, and—"

"And sweet implants. Know you guys made her legs for her too—that means they aren't made of junk. Worth a fair amount of credits."

"You're saying this as if you're considering on taking and selling them yourself."

"She ain't gonna use them anymore." Sa'mosa rises and hovers over Sara as threateningly as possible, the shadows shrouding her gleaming eyes adding quite the intimidation factor. If Sara had not already dealt with this bullshit before—or dealt with loss, and pain, and the horrors of kett and—well, if she were the woman entering Andromeda for the first time, she'd have pissed her pants by now. Instead, she stands and meets the glare with one of her own.

"You don't want to do that."

"You don't know me, _Nexus._ "

"I'm an exile now, same as you. I consciously and willingly defied a direct order from the head honcho himself, choosing to go against Nexus."

Sa'mosa reaches over Sara's shoulder, propping her hand on the bulkhead, leaning close with a psychotic grin. "You think you can manipulate me that easily?"

"Well..." Sara bounces her head left and right, shrugging. "Yup. Is it working?"

"Sure is. Fuck Nexus."

"Wait. Seriously? That's it? That _worked?_ " Sara stares in disbelief when the asari nonchalantly takes her seat, kicking back to relax. There's something about Sa'mosa's smirk that makes Sara uneasy, and she remains vigilant over every action the exile takes—while being mindful that her own body language reveals absolutely no sign of fear. There's no doubt that Sa'mosa is trying to get into her head, and is cunning enough to read and manipulate people just as well as she shoots. In another life, this commando would make a cute couple with Cora. Ah, little cute killing machines.

Well, at least she'll be a good ally to have, _if_ Sara can convince her to work together.

"Looks like it's a touch-and-go!" The pilot yells over his shoulder. "I'm not cleared to land, but I have a direct order from Tann to drop you off by any means necessary." _Of course_ he ordered that. Another stubborn thorn ripped out of his ass. "Get ready for a bumpy landing, ladies!"

"We'll need at least a minute to extract the casket safely!" Sara shouts back, rising and holding on to the bars overhead when the shuttle jerks about erratically.

"No can do, get ready to move _now!_ "

"For fuck's sake," Sara sighs, carding a hand through her hair. "Of course things still aren't going right, as they never do."

"Relax." Sa'mosa puts her foot on the end of the casket. "It's not like we have to worry about what the _box_ looks like."

"Do you seriously not give a fuck ab—"

"It's either going to be smashed to pieces or lost underground. Remy's in no position to care what it looks like either—she has worse things to worry about. Time to go, _darling!_ " The moment the shuttle doors open, Sa'mosa kicks the casket, and there's a slight delay before it's inches suddenly turns into _meters._ Biotics. Sara cringes when the casket crashes on the ground, wood splitting. The shuttle's loud thrusters drown out the cussing match between the ladies.

Namely exile ladies— _veteran_ exiles.

The shuttle rushes out of the unauthorized landing zone as soon as Sara hops off, groaning when Sa'mosa's curses ring the bell for outcast guards. "Shut up, they're going to shoot us as soon as they identify us!" Sara hisses, but it falls on deaf ears. _She's_ about to go deaf. She tries to stop the asari from punching a hole through the casket—curses muffled inside—only for the lid to be kicked off anyways.

And out pops Remy. Sara laughs, thinking of a jack-in-the-box.

"What the _FUCK,_ Food?!"

"See?" Sa'mosa smiles sweetly—now _this_ is terrifying. How did she figure out the ruse? "Worse things to worry about."

-—-—-—-—-—-

Alone in the crew's quarters, Suvi slips into the privacy of her bunk and hides under her sheets, clutching the datapad Lexi gave her close to her chest. She prays with all her heart that the suspicions she has—of what Lexi's actually trying to do for her—are true. There's only one way to find out; and if it's true, the implications behind the necessity for all this secrecy is...

First thing's first.

Dim light flicks on to life as she activates the datapad. Her eyes widen when a series of familiar encryptions blow up on the screen, with the addition of a new one.

 _[Of what equation is this formula for?]  
{(x, t) ∈ R³ X R: x = φ(t)}_

It doesn't take her any time to piece the puzzle together. Her fingers type with a fury, hope burning in her heart. _[_ _Partial Regularity Theorum for the Navier-Stokes equation.]_ Her lips spread into a grin the moment the next encryption unlocks.

 _ _[Caesar -7  
Solve: lnob tgptk]__

"You remembered..."

 _[suvi anwar]_

The final encryption glares in her face.

 _[Caesar -1  
Solve: hs eddkr fnnc sn ad zkhud]_

Simple. Quick. Her heart skips a beat; she barely believes the answer that unfolds before her eyes, letter by letter.

 _[It feels good to be alive]_

The datapad pings loudly as the ciphers disappear. A single line sends her scrambling to comply when it fades within seconds.

 **Lower the volume.**

Nothing but black appears, and Suvi holds the datapad to her ear to listen for any sounds. She didn't mute it. Is the datapad out of juice? She inches the blanket open a sliver just for enough light to see what's going on, startled back into hiding when something finally plays on the screen. A shaky omni-tool video of the med-bay, and whoever is taping it all is breathing heavily as if they had just run a marathon.

Bile surges right up to Suvi's throat when the video pans to Remy in the glass pod. Lifeless. No vitals. The monitors were proof of that. But then the recorder walks up to the monitor and looks behind it.

The wires _aren't_ plugged in.

"Alright..." Sara—that's Sara's voice! "Everything's set to go." The video pans to Remy and the glass pod. "We have two more minutes before all of the Tempest's cameras and sensors are rebooted. Are you sure you're ready to do this?"

Eyes closed, Remy simply gives a thumbs up. Suvi doesn't believe what she's seeing.

"Any last words?"

Remy smirks. Shakes her head.

"Right." Sara chuckles. "Dead people don't talk; good to know you're settling in." The video suddenly switches to face the other side, and Suvi's staring at the pathfinder's cheeky smirk. "Sorry, Suvi. I've got to borrow your girlfriend for a little bit. We're only going to save the Initiative, no big deal. Hope you don't mind."

Oh, she minds. _A lot._ Sara is not getting out of this one unscathed. Why did they hide the truth from her?! She suffered for what? Sell a lie? She could've acted like Remy!

Remy. Oh... _Remy._

She is **definitely** not getting out of this one unscathed.

"Also, please don't actually kill Remy or her friend when we come back. I mean we _are_ about to save the galaxy and stuff, no big deal, but still."

Is killing Sara an option?

"You can't kill me either."

Bloody hell!

"You, Lexi and Peebee are the only ones who know about this. No matter what, _do not_ reveal to anyone that Remy's alive. Don't squeeze information out of Peebee." Was their 'fight' staged too, then? It seemed rather quick, but them arguing isn't exactly unbelievable or uncommon. "All I can ask is for you to trust me. I promise you I have the Initiative's best interests at heart, and I'm not giving up on Meridian. It's just—"

 _"Sara,"_ SAM interjects, _"you have ten seconds before the system-wide reboot finishes."_

"Right. Bye, Suvi! _Psst,_ Remy, you're on. Make sure she won't kill us." The video snaps back to the engineer, who's waving with a guilty smile and puppy eyes.

She _knows_.

"That's the best you've got?! You—"

 _"Sara, it would be wise to turn the omni-tool off now."_

The feed cuts abruptly without another word.

Yeah. Sure. Suvi doesn't just mind. She isn't just annoyed, and conflicted with grief and relief colliding in one hot mess. She's _infuriated._ The entire time she stood beside the glass pod, asking SAM over and over again to identify Remy's body, crying her eyes out and... And Remy just laid there. Not one single hint to reveal the truth. No effort to comfort. They all just let Suvi believe that she actually died. The fake news Lexi delivered, the awkward embrace Peebee gave—it was all orchestrated.

Another attachment—a stupid little cheesy song—plays. Another slap in the face. A cheap way to appease her. Perhaps they don't even think Suvi will snap, blindly believing she'll remain patient and kind and sweet and **no** **.**

No matter what, Remy is _not_ getting a kiss when she returns. Mm-mm, no sir, and Sara is _not_ getting a heavenly cup of coffee. They're both getting slaps, they are, even if they save the galaxy. Or whatever. _No big deal,_ after all, so they shouldn't mind getting a thrashing for something that is most definitely a _very_ big deal.

...Then they'll get their kisses and heavenly cups. Maybe. But there's one thing Suvi is sure of, and her aching smiling cheeks are proof of it.

 _It feels good to be alive._


End file.
